Holding the Light
by SilverStarsAndMoons
Summary: AU, where Addison stays. Izzie becomes brain damaged as a result of a bad car accident and Addison has to learn to cope with someone who doesn't remember her. Callie is Addie's best friend. Does she become more to her than just a support? COMPLETED.
1. The Night So Young

**Holding the Light**

_Oh, the night so young_

_It's been so long since I've had any fun_

_I don't know what's wrong_

_I just want to play another song_

_When the seasons change_

_Leaves will still be blowing through my brain_

_Mmm, can you feel your heartache?_

_Do you relate to me?_

_In an empty home_

_Man inside, he never feels alone_

_For when he holds the light_

_He knows there's nothing that he has to fight_

_Can you feel your heartache?_

_Do you relate to me?_

Sometimes, when the night's really dark, and the leaves are blowing up against the glass, Addison Montgomery curls up in her bed and cries. She never cries at any other time – no, not when she loses a baby to an unforeseen complication; not when she sees her ex-lovers flirting with someone else; not when Alex Karev decides to be an insensitive prick and rib her when she's really raw, and just needs to be left alone. And she doesn't cry when she goes into Izzie's room and sees a blank stare, or experiences one of Izzie's tantrums, or can't coax a smile out of her that day.

But she cries when she gets home and no one can see her.

It's sometimes hard to lie in bed and not feel Izzie beside her. It's hard to think of such a vivacious, intelligent, caring girl being completely lost to the world. What's worse is the fact that she's still actually here – she's just not Izzie anymore. And what really stings, more than anything, is the fact that Addison blames herself.

She's called Callie over tonight, even though she knows how much Callie hates Izzie, because she's having trouble being alone. It's a little surprising for Callie to see how much Addison's been broken over this, because Addison can take a lot, and Callie's only seen her cry once, when she found out about Addison's abortion. But she guesses, somewhere in the back of her jaded mind, that she can understand how she feels. After all, if it was George . . . if it was George in the same situation, when she loved him, she would have been the same way. The worst thing is to experience a lost mind. The worst thing sometimes isn't death.

Callie hears Addison crying in the next room. She'd offered to sleep in the same bed with Addison (no, no strings attached and no sexual innuendoes, please), but Addie had refused, saying that she was really tired. The redhead hadn't said much that evening, and everyone who knows Addison knows that when she gets quiet, something's really wrong. So it's not really surprising now, when Callie pushes Addie's door open, to see the poor woman on her side in the bed, her face pressed into her pillows. She's been remarkably brave about this, but you can't always hold it in.

"Hey, Addie," Callie murmurs, sitting on the edge of Addison's bed. "You really gotta stop lying to me." Her voice is gentle and soft, and when Callie gets soft and gentle, sometimes a slight Spanish accent creeps into her inflections. It's a legacy from her mother, who used to sing her Spanish lullabies every time she had a bad dream. Callie's about as American as you can get, but the fact that she came here from Mexico when she was nine sometimes colours the way she relates to things. Like the crossing herself before and after her surgery. Like the Catholic guilt, which Addison understands completely, being Irish-Catholic herself.

Addison rolls over and the tears glisten on her face in the lowlight. "I didn't lie to you," she sniffles. "How did I lie to you? I haven't even talked to you in something like five hours."

Callie reaches out to stroke Addison's smooth, silky flame-coloured hair. She gently separates a knot as she replies. "You told me you wouldn't need me tonight, and here I am. Gotta say, Addison, I don't appreciate the deception," she jokes, but stops when Addie's face crumples again. "Oh, _mija _. . ." Callie slips into bed beside Addison and gathers the shaking attending into her arms.

"You know, I talked to Derek today," begins Addie in a foggy voice. "I talked to Derek and you know how he's been so good about this. And he told me they'll try another surgery. They'll see if this time they can get her back to normal. I couldn't even feel happy," she says, her voice going up on the last word. "All I could think of is how she'd hate me for all the things I feel about her. How sometimes I just fucking hate her." She lets out a sob, scrubs her hands against her eyes, sniffles and tries to regain control of her breathing. She's getting a bit hysterical, and Callie inwardly is starting to get worried. This is the stuff nervous breakdowns are made of, unfortunately.

"It's been six months. It's hard to remember what she was like before this, but if he can save her, then you're not going to have to hate who she's become. Because that's what this is, Addison. It's you being a caregiver to a brain-damaged loved one while you're trying to keep up a stressful job. You don't hate her. I hate her," quips Callie, "but you don't. You love her. Remember who she was before this happened. And for fuck's sake," she suddenly snaps, "stop blaming yourself for this."

Addison turns her face into Callie's soft side, inhales the resident's unique scent, all Febreze dryer sheets and Dove shower gel. She sighs shakily. "I'm not even sure I love her anymore."

Izzie Stevens has been diagnosed with brain damage and amnesia following a head trauma. They're not really sure how much brain damage is there, actually. She's had two surgeries to remove a subdural hematoma and one more to set a badly-broken arm, but so far, there's been no change in her demeanour.

The whole thing happened six months ago, on a rainy night in May. Addison was cuddled into the couch cushions and holding a heating pad to her stomach, looking miserable. "There are some days that I truly hate being a woman. Really."

Izzie had looked up from her magazine. "Are you seriously still on about that? Cramps, Addie. They're part of the whole period thing. You wanna have babies, you go through the visit from Aunt Flo."

"I can't even have babies," Addison had grumbled back. "Come over here and make me feel better."

"Ugh, no thanks," Izzie said, grimacing. Addison had pouted. "I don't mean like that. I just want to cuddle." She pressed the heating pad closer to her stomach and if it was possible, looked even more miserable. Izzie softened and came to sit beside her on the couch, letting Addie lie between her legs and rest on her chest. She began to massage Addison's tummy. "I know, it's miserable. Did you take some Advil?"

"Yes, but I used it all up." Addison moved uncomfortably. "You don't have any, do you?"

"I don't get cramps," Izzie had replied, but then noticed the look on Addison's face and quickly changed the subject. "I can drive out to the drugstore and get you some. I'm sick of your complaining anyway," she joked, but softened the sharpness of her reply by kissing Addison gently on the lips. Addison turned onto her side and laid her head against Izzie's chest, listening to her strong, slow heartbeat for a minute. "I love you."

"Well, I love you more when you quit complaining," Izzie joked back, but kissed the top of Addie's head. "Okay, I'm out. I'll be back in a few minutes. Try to hold on until then."

A few minutes had turned into an hour, and then into two hours, and Addison's repeated calls to Izzie's BlackBerry kept going straight to voicemail. She'd called Callie, then, too, to get George's new number. Callie had been cold about it, but she'd complied. George hadn't known where Izzie was, either. He also pointed out that Izzie would have called if she went to Meredith's house to visit with her friends. Addison knew that, but it didn't stop her from covering all her bases.

As she disconnected with George, she caught sight of flashing red-and-blue lights outside of the window, and her stomach rose into her throat. She buried her face in her hands, but she couldn't block out the sharp knock on the door, or the policeman's concerned face as they told her that Izzie had been in an accident and was now in critical condition at Seattle Grace.

Somehow, she'd gotten to the hospital – if you ask her now, Addison would tell you she doesn't really remember. And Derek had met her at the door, and he had told her that Izzie was in a coma. And Addison had collapsed in front of the door and had awoken to find herself staring at the ceiling tiles in the Chief's office, her forehead being stroked by Richard himself.

Izzie had been in that coma for a week and then woke up after her first surgery to remove the bleed in her brain. Derek hadn't been able to get it all the first time, and so they thought that her amnesia and inability to speak had been related to that. However, after the second surgery, things got worse. Her personality changed completely. Her mentality became like that of a two-year-old. She threw tantrums. She pulled out her IVs. And the worst part was, she remembered no one – not even Addison.

Since then, Izzie has improved physically, but she's not the same person at all. She has to be spoon-fed by a nurse or by Addison for every meal, because she doesn't remember how to feed herself. She's learning to talk again. She can walk, but she stumbles and someone has to hold her hands. She wears diapers. She loses patience easily. And she forgets what she's learned intellectually pretty much every day, and has to start over.

Before, you only had to tell Izzie once anything you wanted her to know. Now, she learns her colours in the morning and forgets them in the afternoon. Her language capacity seems to be okay, but she'll stammer and forget words, or repeat strings of nonsense words over and over again. She cries for her mother. She throws things across the room. And she likes nothing better than when someone cuddles her close, but she'll push them away if she's in a bad mood. In short, Izzie's now a difficult burden that Addison never thought she'd have to deal with.

And it IS hard to remember what she was like before the accident. It's hard to remember her quips and her satirical remarks; the way she smiled and knew exactly how to please Addison in bed; her gentle manner with her patients, and her wicked sense of humour. It's hard to remember her graceful walk, the way her hips swung gently from side to side, or her insistence that even if she looked like shit after a night on-call, she had to at least do something creative with her hair. Izzie's hair is still blonde and still silky, but most of the time it's a rat's nest because she doesn't like to have her hair brushed. She's still beautiful, but you can't really see it when her face is screwed up in a shout because she has yellow pudding instead of chocolate.

So is it any wonder that Addison cries at night? Because she does have infinite patience – she does. She can spend all day in surgery and still spare two hours to sit with her lover and talk to her about her day, even though Izzie sometimes doesn't understand, and sometimes interrupts her, and sometimes begins to scream because she doesn't like the way the medical terms sound. Addison can patiently try to feed Izzie her supper, and she can duck without batting an eyelash when Izzie decides she hates green beans and that it's Addison's fault. She can cuddle Izzie and listen to the girl's shallow breathing, and not wrinkle her nose when Izzie fills her diaper and a nurse needs to be called to change her. She can still find love for her somehow, somewhere deep inside. She still tries to love her like she used to.

But the fact is, you can't love someone who doesn't love you back in the same way. Izzie loves Addison, when she remembers who she is. But she doesn't relate to Addison anymore, and Addie can't relate to this girl she doesn't know.

And there's Callie.

Callie is holding Addison against her and listening to the attending's soft breathing. She's a bit grateful that Addison's stopped crying and that she's sleeping now. Callie made her take an Ambien, something Addie's normally against, because she's afraid of sleeping through a page or oversleeping one of her shifts. But when your breath starts hitching, and you start shaking, and your hands get cold and your stomach starts contracting, you need something to calm you down.

To tell you the truth, Callie is really upset that Izzie is the way she is, because it makes it harder to hate her like this. How can you hate a virtual baby? Seriously – it's not even like she remembers that she had an affair with George a year ago. And she's even a bit angry at Izzie for going and leaving Addison this upset, although once again, it's a bit futile to blame the girl for getting into an accident on an already-miserable night. She just loves Addison, to the point that it's a bit heart-bursting, and she's not even sure that it's of the platonic sort, anymore.

You know, it'd be so easy to just fuck her. She's vulnerable and she's sad, and Callie's vulnerable and sad, and it'd be easy to take comfort and to forget about Izzie and George and the fact that Callie hates being Chief Resident and that Addison hates her life right now, too.

Callie can relate. And up until tonight, she was going to tell Addison how she felt. And then Derek had to step in and wreck the whole thing by telling Addie that Izzie might get back to normal.

How do you hold onto hope? How do you keep getting up every morning, keep going back to that hospital room, keep taking the abuse?

How do you keep trying to relate when the connection's broken?


	2. Leaves Blowing Through My Brain

**Leaves Blowing Through My Brain**

Addison's standing in her OR, and this is the one place where she has complete control. She can control the patient's stats through the instruments all around her. She can control how the C-section goes, and this one seems to be going okay. The mother is peacefully sleeping. The baby is coming out smoothly, and Addison's voice is calm while she directs her residents and cauterizes a stray tube bleed. It's a perfect example of organized chaos, and if you asked Addison what she felt her greatest achievement was, she'd tell you it was her ability to run a perfect OR. It's why she's so in demand. It's why she's the best.

And Addison knows, even though she chooses not to believe it, that it can all come crashing down in one second.

"Pulse ox is down to 80, Dr. Montgomery. The mother's crashing," says a resident, her voice sharp and worried. Addison's head turns towards the resident and then the monitor starts its frenetic beeping. The anaesthesiologist is struggling with the anaesthetic levels, Addison's hand-deep in this woman's uterus, and just as soon as she grabs the baby's shoulders, they slip away from her and out of her sight.

"Shit," she curses, her hands frantically scrabbling as the space between the jagged edge of the muscle wall and the cavity of the woman's abdomen begins to well with blood. "I need some help here, Karev, O'Malley!" Her voice is rising to almost a scream as it suddenly seems a gargantuan effort to lift this baby out. Almost as soon as she calls, Alex Karev is beside her and together, they manage to get this ten-pound little boy out onto the table and under the warmer. Unfortunately, his mother isn't doing so well. In a minute, she's flat-lined and her blood pressure is too low for Addison to stop the bleeding. She's dead on Addison's table, and a quick glance at George O'Malley's stricken face tells her that her son may soon be on his way to join her.

Now, if you could stop the scene, right here: this is what makes Addison Montgomery a good doctor. Addison's face is not one of stricken panic, or of cold determination. Her expression is patient; her mouth is steady; her lips are not trembling. However, her blue eyes are full of empathy and concern as she leans over the baby, breathes down his still throat, tries to get his chest to rise, and only then, only after ten minutes of trying to get his heart started, does her face change to one of defeat.

Callie, who's been leaning against the wall of the OR scrub room during this surgery, waits quietly for Addison to say her goodbyes to the mother and to the child, long after everyone's cleared out of the OR and the morgue staff's been paged. O'Malley's gone to tell the father; Karev's gone to punch another hole in the wall near the basement linen closet. And whatever else Addison will do that day – and she will do a lot – she's got to take the time to emotionally release from her patients, because no matter what she knows and what she's been taught, the reason why Addison's a good doctor is because she gets too close to her patients, even the ones who haven't been born yet.

Callie doesn't say anything as Addison scrubs her hands clean; she doesn't move as Addison needs to turn away to the wall for a second and let her face crumple with the pain of not being able to get it this time. When Addison turns back, her face is smooth and untroubled. "Hi, Callie," she says, her voice betraying nothing.

"Hey. So, I came down to ask if you want to go to lunch? You've had a busy morning and my knee replacement isn't until one." Callie keeps her voice light; she doesn't let on that sometimes she cries when it just doesn't go right that day, either. Doctors are horrendously proud people because they have to give the illusion that they have it all under control. People trust doctors to make it right. In fact, a lot of people forget that doctors are human beings and not God.

Addison leans against the wall and purses her lips. "Callie . . ."

"This isn't anything," Callie insists, spreading her hands. "This is me, asking you, my best friend, if you want to have lunch. We don't have to talk about what happened last night."

"Nothing happened last night!"

"Exactly! So, we have nothing to talk about. I'm hungry, I figured you would be hungry, so I'm suggesting that we take some time in the cafeteria to eat a salad and to discuss the fact that I saw George in the locker room today and I was okay with it."

Addison's face quirks into a slight grin. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, have you been to see Izzie today?" At this, Callie tries to keep her voice neutral. Addison notices, and carefully controls her voice, too.

"No. I was going to go up after this surgery. I forgot to go yesterday, I'm feeling a little guilty about it, although I don't know why - she doesn't recognize me." Addison's tone is a little bitter, but her expression is still mild, so Callie doesn't call her on it.

"Yeah, sure. Do you want me to come?"

"No. You know what, why don't I meet you after I go up and check on her? The surgery's in another week, I just want to make sure she's okay. And all. Well, you know what I mean. I know she's okay, I just want to . . ."

"Make sure she's okay. It's all good, Addie. You love her."

Addison sighs, looks down at her hands. "Yeah. I love her." She looks up again, meets Callie's chocolate-brown eyes. "I do."

"You do. I will see you in a half-hour, then," says Callie brightly. She turns to go and Addison almost calls her back, almost. Instead, she goes into the bathroom adjoining the scrub room and changes back into her royal-blue dress, carefully putting her earrings in, adjusting her necklace. She brushes her long red hair and dons her white lab coat, running her fingers over the name embroidered on her left breast, over her heart. Izzie loves Addison's blue dress; well, she loved it when she was Izzie. Nevertheless, Addison loves her blue dress, and she wears it for herself, trying to rationalize the fact that Callie told her last night to wear it, because she looks sexy when she walks down the corridors and it swirls around her knees.

Last night was not a night of mad sex after an angsty comforting session. Last night was an angsty comforting session that ended up with two more-than-friends cuddling in bed and talking. Addison finds it awkward today because she said a lot to Callie that she normally wouldn't have said to anyone. Callie does not feel awkward, because she feels like she and Addison connected on a deeper level than before. They both feel a little awkward because the slight attraction between them has now grown to an uncomfortable attraction that with Addison's history, normally turns into a night of mad sex, which makes things more awkward. And so the cycle goes.

But as Addie climbs up the stairs to the second floor (because she doesn't run at ALL now, and she needs some exercise, for God's sake), she feels better, knowing that Izzie will always stand between her and Callie. It doesn't matter if the girl is oblivious to whatever goes on – Addison will remain respectful to that relationship. And she knows Callie will remain respectful as long as Addison asks her to. So Addison will continue to ask her to.

Addison comes to the nurse's desk and smiles at Nurse Jessica, who is typing into a laptop on the other side. The nurse smiles back. "Hi, Dr. Montgomery. She's had a good morning – we got her to eat all of her breakfast and you've arrived just in time for her lunch. The physiotherapist came up the morning to practice walking with her. She can almost do it on her own, but she got scared whenever Dr. Glass let go of her hands. Dr. Shepherd also came up to examine her again. He's looking for you, by the way, so he asked that you page him. She hasn't cried once all morning!" Nurse Jessica looks inordinately pleased and Addison almost smiles as manically back, but she manages to control herself. This is a good day, indeed. Izzie normally can't make it two hours without bursting into tears, and honestly, if you were in her position, wouldn't you feel the same?

Addison thanks Nurse Jessica and heads down to room 205, where Izzie is staying for the time being. She spent about two months in the ICU after both brain surgeries, but now she's on neurology's continuing care wing, where she'll be until she's physically healthy enough to go home, or into a home, depending on her mental state.

Izzie is in bed, the covers folded neatly over her legs. She has a picture book resting on her lap, but she's not looking at it. Instead, she's twirling a straw wrapper around and around in her hands, her eyes focused on the way the wrapper blurs when she twirls it really fast. Her lunch tray is resting, just out of her reach, on the wheeled bed table to her right. Someone has managed to wash her face and comb her hair this morning, and someone else, probably Nurse Jessica, has pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail. If it wasn't for the fact that Izzie drools a little bit, now, she would look very much like her old self.

Addison comes over to sit on the edge of Izzie's bed and the girl startles a little, looking up in alarm at Addison until a flash of recognition crosses her face. "Addison!" she squeals, eliciting the first real smile out of Addie all day. She reaches out her arms for a hug and Addison holds her close, noting that Izzie seems to be losing weight again. She makes a mental note to ask Nurse Jessica about some vitamins for her and maybe a nourishing IV. "Hi, sweetheart," she murmurs into Izzie's ear, smiling again as Izzie makes another happy sound and cuddles in close. When she isn't being a brat, Izzie is, as she's always been, wonderful to be around.

Izzie pulls back and lets Addison gently wipe her mouth and chin off with a moistened tissue. "Today I walked down the hall!" Her voice is so bright and happy that Addie can't help hugging her tight again. "That's wonderful, Izzie. Did Dr. Glass help you?"

Izzie nods and taps the picture book. "He gave me a . . ." Her voice trails off and an expression of confusion crosses her face. "A . . ."

"A book?" prompts Addison, gently taking it from Izzie's hands and opening it up. "Do you want to read your book while we eat lunch?"

Izzie looks up at Addison and for a minute, Addie is taken aback at the intensity of her expression. "Apples are red, Addie. And sometimes they grow on trees. Hey, did you check on the patient with toxemia?" Addison blinks at the sudden jump in the conversation, but this is what talking to Izzie is like these days. Although, this is the first time she's mentioned medical terms.

"Do you remember a patient with toxemia? Can you tell me about her?" Addison keeps her voice gentle and steady, because any excitement can make Izzie agitated and setting her off is the last thing one wants to do when she's having shafts of reason. Izzie starts to look worried and Addison begins to rub her thin shoulders gently. "It's okay. Tell Addison what you remember, sweetie."

"She had a little boy . . . he was severely underweight. She began to seize after the surgery and her speech was slurred." Izzie still looks worried, but her voice is gaining strength. "Addie, what was the treatment plan? I can't remember."

"When she became eclampsic, we gave her magnesium sulfate, and positioned her on her left side . . ." Addison trails off as Izzie puts her hands over her ears and starts to moan. "Don't say those words," she whimpers. Addison says nothing more and continues to rub Izzie's back until the girl's expression smooths out.

No one really knows why Izzie can't handle the sound of medical terms. Derek speculates that it's because medical situations are high-stress and somewhere in the back of her mind, Izzie remembers this and how the adrenaline rush made her feel. Her body and mind are not at a place where she can handle the feelings of stress, so she starts to get very agitated and upset when anything medical is mentioned around her. Addison is inclined to agree, but she makes a mental note to tell Derek about what Izzie has said today.

Addison pulls the bed table over and smiles at Izzie. "Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Izzie smiles. "I hope it's chocolate pudding today. Can I have that first, Addie?" Addison smiles at her. "Let's see what they've given you." She takes the tray lid off and the smell of hospital food fills the room. Izzie's got what looks like hot turkey with gravy, some tired-looking mashed potatoes, a few blanched peas and chocolate pudding (thank God). Addison takes the fork and scoops up a little mashed potato. "Why don't you try this first, Izzie?"

It's more than a little surreal, and Addison tries to push it to the back of her mind, how weird it is to be feeding Izzie when Izzie is such an incredibly independent, capable person normally. However, that was then, and this is now. Izzie decides to be obedient today. She eats all of her mashed potatoes and a bit of her turkey, after correctly naming each thing on her plate, and then asks again for her chocolate pudding. However, as soon as she tastes it, her face changes and she gags.

Addison is surprised. "What's wrong, Izzie?" She takes the napkin and wipes the dribble off of Izzie's chin, and then tries to feed her another bite of the pudding. This time, Izzie spits it out, all over her covers and a little bit on Addison. Addison is now annoyed. "Izzie. That's not nice."

Izzie begins to whimper. "I don't want that! I want chocolate!" Her face screws up and her breath quickens, signifying a tantrum. Addison double-checks the pudding, dipping a finger in it and tasting it. She frowns. The pudding is definitely chocolate. "Sweetheart, this is chocolate pudding. See, you like this. This is what you want." Her voice is confused and coaxing, which makes Izzie stop whining for a minute. She peers into the cup. "No. It's not, Addie. It's not chocolate. It's not white!"

It takes Addison less than a minute to realize that Izzie's talking about vanilla pudding before the cup is snatched from her hands and hurled across the room, where it spatters on the opposite wall, next to the wardrobe. Addison turns to Izzie and deliberately smacks her hand sharply. "No. No, Izzie. That's not nice. You don't do that." Her voice is still calm, but Izzie bursts into tears anyway and turns her face into the pillows.

Addison inwardly groans. Visiting Izzie is like walking on eggshells. Anything you say and do can and will be turned against you. She debates just walking out, after the morning she had, but she puts her hands on Izzie's back and begins to rub it again. "Shh. It's okay, sweetie. I'm not mad."

"Addie? Come here. Come here. Come here." Izzie repeats until Addison gets into bed next to her and wraps her arms around her. Holding Izzie is not the same as it used to be. Izzie will not spoon with Addison – instead, she wants to wrap herself totally around Addison's body, until Addie is holding her the same way she would hold a small child, with Izzie's head on her shoulder and her stomach against Addison's. She smells like a mixture of baby powder, sweat and antiseptic – the smell of a chronic patient in a hospital, and Addie can't help but remember Izzie's flowery scent and her light, fresh perfume that she got from a dollar store but that Addison loved anyway, even though it wasn't Christian Dior.

Izzie sighs and shifts uncomfortably, and Addison reaches for the nurse's call button. "You're wet again, aren't you?" she murmurs to Izzie, who responds by cuddling more into Addie's shoulder. She feels a welling wetness there, and realizes that she's going to have to make a stop by her office to get her other, non-drooled-upon lab coat. Izzie's head is growing heavy on Addie's shoulder and she almost decides to send Nurse Jessica away when she comes in, but then her beeper goes off and startles Izzie badly. She claps her hands over her ears and begins to shriek, and Addison takes that as her cue to go.

Her ears are ringing as she meets Nurse Jessica at the door, and the nurse gives her a sympathetic look as she goes to comfort Izzie. Just as Addison's about to leave, though, Izzie stops screaming enough to whimper, "I love you, Addie, don't go away. I love you. You." She scrubs her hands into her eyes and lets out a sob. "So sorry, so sorry, so sorry."

Addison looks over at Izzie, looks at the blonde hair coming out of the ponytail, at the diaper that Nurse Jessica is placing on the bed while she folds back Izzie's covers, at the mess of chocolate pudding on the wall and the remains of Izzie's lunch on her tray, and murmurs, "I'm sorry, too, sweetheart."

Then she leaves the room.

Callie is standing at the meeting spot, outside of the locker room, which is about two corridors away from the cafeteria. She spots Addison walking briskly down the hall and smiles, but her face falls when she sees the tears on Addie's cheeks and how her red hair is slightly messed up. Addison is about to walk straight past Callie when Callie reaches out her hand and grabs Addison's arm.

Addison startles, and when she sees it's Callie, her face crumples and her hands go up to her face. "I completely forgot," she whispers through her hands. "I completely forgot about lunch because it was a disaster and I really just want to go home right now, I've got such a migraine . . ." Her voice trails off as Callie wraps her arms around her, ignoring the wet spot on her shoulder and the splotch of pudding on the edge of her coat.

"You don't need to go home, okay. You need to sit down and relax for a second, Addison." Callie's voice is calm and sure, and Addison takes her hands away from her face to meet the resident's soft brown eyes. Before she knows it, her eyes close, her mouth finds Callie's and they're kissing, right there in the hallway.

It's like coming up for air; it's like plunging herself in a cool blue lagoon somewhere, feeling the refreshing water through her hair, and the relaxation come over her, so much that her knees get weak and Callie has to wrap her arms around Addison's waist to keep her from falling. The kiss itself is not passionate, it's more desperate, and when it ends, the tears are streaming down both their cheeks.

"You need to figure this out, Addison," murmurs Callie, tucking a lock of hair behind Addison's ears. "I'm here, but you need to make a choice."

What choice?


	3. So Long Since I've Had Any Fun

Callie wakes up, for the fourth morning, on the left side of Addison's bed. For the fourth morning, she rolls over to be greeted by a tangled mess of red hair falling over Addison's pillow and baby-blue eyes staring at her in a very disconcerting fashion. Callie raises her eyebrows. "Okay, that's got to stop. Do you realize how creepy you are in the morning?"

"This has got to stop." Addison's voice is low and soft, her eyes still fastened onto Callie's face. "We can't keep doing this."

"Uh, what are we doing, exactly?" Callie turns onto her back and stretches, quelling the alarm before it can even go off. She hates the sound of Addison's alarm clock and she hates it even more when she's already awake. God. She turns her head to look at Addison, who has closed her eyes again. They're both not on until ten o'clock, but it's already 8:30 AM, and with two women using the shower and bathroom facilities, sometimes that's pushing it.

"You know what we're doing." Addison's voice is still monotonic, and Callie feels a frission in her stomach that doesn't seem related to the Chinese food they shared last night. "Okay, so it's not sex, Callie? It's still completely not something Izzie would approve of."

"Oh, come on. Like you've never had a sleepover with your girlfriends before," Callie sighs and stretches again. "I'm not grinding you into the sheets, Addie. Calm down. She's completely oblivious anyway."

"I've had sleepovers with my girlfriends. I haven't kissed them goodnight. Nor have I spooned with them in the middle of the night, either. They haven't rubbed my back and kissed my neck when I woke up crying. It doesn't matter if it's mostly platonic. She's having surgery in a week. If Derek does his job, she's not going to be oblivious, and Callie, it's going to fucking kill her, especially considering your history."

"Uh, may I remind you, Addison, that it was IZZIE who slept with George? I did not cheat on my husband with her. George cheated on me with Izzie." Callie, even though it's been a few months, still gets upset about this and she impatiently brushes tears away. "I really think that she is in no position to talk. And considering that right now, she's a pants-wetting, drooling, blubbering idiot," (oh, how it feels so good to say those words, especially in a harsh tone) "she can't be that attractive to you, anyway. It's about duty for you, Addison. You're always about fucking duty. I really just wish that one day, you'd give into what YOU want, instead of constantly thinking about what SHE wants."

Addison sits up in bed, her eyes blazing, her hands gesticulating. "Excuse me? Am I hearing you, completely writing off a relationship that has meant the world to me, and calling my lover a blubbering idiot? God, Callie, I had no idea you were so fucking heartless. It's about duty, yeah! Of course it's about duty, Callie. I love her. I love her because I remember her the way she was. And if she has a chance to be that way again . . ." Addison is now brushing tears out of her eyes. "I don't think you even know what she's like. You haven't visited her at all. I love her. I do, I do." She gets out of bed, wrapping her robe around herself, but Callie is quick, and she pulls Addison back into bed.

"I'm sorry," she mutters into Addison's hair, her arms securely around the attending's trembling body. "You're right, I'm a heartless bitch. Sometimes, it's hard for me not to hate her. That doesn't mean that I shouldn't be gentle, though. You deserve better, Addison. You do deserve better than this."

"Yeah, well." Addison sighs, her chest rising and falling against the security of Callie's arms. "I take what I get from life."

Callie lets her go and Addison gets up to shower. When they meet again in an hour, the fight has been forgotten.

Callie's been arguing with herself all day. She could barely keep her mind on her hip replacement this morning; she just about killed someone in her spine realignment just before lunch, and now, as she twirls a forkful of salad around and around in her hands, she is no closer to a decision than she was before she spoke to Addison this morning. What Callie wants to do is visit Izzie. What she's hesitating about is the fact that she hates the girl's guts.

You know, it's so easy to hate someone when they're on the same level as you are. When Izzie was healthy, pretty and intelligent, she was easy to hate. In fact, a good part of Callie's day was dedicated to hating Izzie. Sad? Yeah, but you've got to have something to give meaning to your life and if you can't have the person you love, you may as well have the person you hate.

From what Callie's heard, Izzie's in bad shape. She's completely not like the girl she was at all, and that's just not what Addison says. In fact, she overheard some of George's weird and judgy friends talking about the way Izzie is now, and she felt a stab of guilt when she heard Meredith describing her experience in the poor girl's room. George, according to gossip that Callie overheard in the scrub room, hasn't gone to see his ex-lover, which kind of made Callie party a little inside. Anyway, the point is, Izzie isn't what she used to be.

Callie's curious. She knows that Izzie only recognizes Addison sporadically, and she pretty much knows no one else. She finally makes her decision. She'll go to see the girl.

Getting away is sort of tough, considering that she's Chief Resident now and everyone always has questions and things to say, which makes slipping away unnoticed a bit of an impossibility. But, she manages to shake everyone off around an hour after lunch, when the hospital gets a little sleepy and quiet, since there are no visitors and many surgeries are scheduled for around this time. Other doctors take a few minutes to lie down in an on-call room. Plus, she's timing her visit for after Izzie's lunch, because mealtimes are considered traumatic for the girl.

She walks down the hall nearly silently, casting her eyes nervously around for nurses or doctors that she knows. This is neurology, so no one really knows her well up here, but those that do know about her history with Izzie and they would find this strange. Nevertheless, she IS Chief Resident – she does have a lot of pull in the hospital, with any patient. She straightens her spine and goes straight past the nurses' station, where Nurse Jessica is charting quietly. The nurse looks up as Callie goes by, but she doesn't say anything, and she certainly doesn't try to stop her.

Room 205. Callie stops in front of the door, which is half-closed, and then sucks up her courage. Izzie won't know who she is. For a minute, she really doesn't know why she's here. Why does she want to see Izzie like this? Is it some kind of revenge? Whatever. She pushes the door open.

For a minute, she doesn't see anything. The room is on the shady side of the hospital, and after the bright lights of the hallway, her eyes have to adjust a little to the darker atmosphere. Izzie is curled up on her side in the bed, asleep. Her thumb is in her mouth, and her hair is streaming over the pillow. It's amazing how beautiful she looks even when she's drooling into her pillows.

Callie sits down beside her and sighs. In a way, she's kind of glad that she doesn't have to deal with Izzie just yet. Asleep, the girl almost looks normal.

However, Callie's pager suddenly drops out of her pocket onto the floor and Izzie startles, waking up and blinking her brown eyes twice. She yawns a little and stretches, and if not for the drool on her chin, she would look perfectly normal. She turns and her eyes widen when she sees Callie.

Callie looks back at Izzie, wondering if the girl knows who she is. She gets her answer when Izzie whispers, "Who is it?"

You know what's funny? Callie has no idea what to say to this girl. "It's Dr. Torres, Izzie. Callie."

Izzie continues to regard Callie with a blank stare until something clicks. "Oh, no," she says, her eyes becoming akin to a deer in the headlights. "Nonononono . . ."

Callie is surprised. "You know who I am?"

"I was bad," Izzie whispers, and curls into a ball under the covers, her knees against her chest. "I was really bad to Callie. Hurt Callie."

Callie nods. "Yeah, you did hurt Callie," she says softly. "You hurt Callie a lot, you and George."

Izzie's eyes fill with tears. "I can't remember . . ."

Callie takes Izzie's cold hand and rubs it a little. "It's okay." She stands up, covers Izzie a little more. Izzie coughs. "I'm thirsty," she says a little timidly. "Drink?"

To tell the truth, Callie doesn't really want to care for Izzie, but the girl's hopeful expression and rumpled, soft look are melting her purposely-hardened heart. "Just a minute. I'll get you some water."

She comes back and holds the straw so that Izzie can put her lips around it. Izzie drinks, but then coughs, spitting up water all over her nightgown. She looks horrified. "I'm sorry," she whispers nervously. Callie is fast realizing that Izzie knows that she's in the doghouse with her and none of this is helping either of them.

"Izzie. Don't worry about it," Callie's voice is edgy, but she tries to remain gentle. Now she sees how annoying Addie can find this girl. She pulls a fresh hospital gown from the drawer beside Izzie's bed and goes to pull the other one from the girl, but Izzie hugs herself and shakes her head. "No, no," she says fretfully. "Not Callie."

Callie suddenly has a flashback to when she and Izzie had met outside of the hospital one dark night, shortly after she'd made George get the hell out of her hotel room. Callie hadn't even thought – she'd hauled off and punched the girl, enjoying the satisfying crack against Izzie's chin. Izzie had come back at her, but Callie had grabbed her sweater and pulled it off her arm, and Izzie had spun off-balance. Then they'd both realized how idiotic they were and had parted ways. Callie is surprised when she thinks of this; that was actually the last time she'd encountered Izzie face-to-face, alone.

Callie almost insists that Izzie get changed, but she changes her mind. "Izzie – you're all wet. You need to put on a dry nightgown, okay?" She keeps her voice gentle and Izzie looks at her for a long moment, then nods her head. "Okay."

As soon as Callie takes off the wet nightgown, she notices how thin the girl is. Izzie's collarbone pokes out sharply under her skin and her breasts are a lot smaller than they used to be. Her stomach is flat, not slightly rounded, like it was, and her shoulders have little knobs on them where there weren't any before. Izzie's been trained well – she lifts her arms obediently so that Callie can slip the gown over them. She makes a mental note to call the nurse, because Izzie needs changing, and then ties the dry gown at Izzie's neck and back. "There," Callie murmurs, half to herself, as if changing Izzie's wet nightgown has moved her up a level.

Izzie sighs as Callie presses the nurse's button. "Drink?" Callie nods. "Drink it slowly this time."

Izzie nods and sips slowly, obediently. When she's finished, she burps a little and looks nervously at Callie. Callie simply smiles. Izzie leans forward. "Are you still mad?"

Callie's a little surprised. "What do you mean?"

Izzie frowns. "Where's George? He never comes here. I wish that George would come." She shifts in bed and starts to pout. "No one comes to see Izzie."

"Addison comes to see you," says Callie. "Addison's here everyday."

"Where's Addison?" Izzie asks, as if she hasn't heard Callie. She shifts in bed and then throws the covers off. "I'm going to find Addison."

Before Callie can stop her, Izzie's standing up and making for the door. Unfortunately, her legs are so weak that she can't keep her balance, and she falls onto the floor with a loud smack. There's a terrified silence, and then Izzie begins to scream.

Callie kneels beside her as Nurse Jessica bursts into the door. "She tried to get up again?" the petite woman gasps, kneeling down with Callie. "That's the second time today. We're going to have to get restraints. God," she mutters, as she helps Izzie into a sitting position. "She's getting to be a lot of trouble."

"Don't move her," says Callie. "She hit that floor pretty hard. Page Addison." She checks Izzie over and feels her healing wrist, which seems to be okay. However, her right wrist seems to be sprained and when Callie touches it, Izzie screams again. "Hurt, hurt Izzie," she sobs and Callie's lips tremble a little. It's so heartbreaking to see this. "It's okay, Izzie. Just relax."

Together, Callie and the nurse lift Izzie back up into her bed and Callie wipes Izzie's face and chin with a tissue. "You're okay now," she reassures her, and Izzie tries to stop crying, sniffling in syncopation with her sobs. Nurse Jessica looks at Callie. "Is she okay?"

"Her wrist seems to be sprained; she'll need an Ace bandage and some ibuprofen, but she's okay. Just scared. Oh, and she needs changing," she says, wrinkling her nose. Addison bursts in. "What's going on?" She's wearing scrubs and a scrub cap – she's either just getting out of surgery or going in. Callie sighs. "It's okay. She tried to get out of bed and she fell."

Addison sits beside Izzie, who leans forward and buries her face in Addison's shoulder. "Okay, it's okay . . . Addison's here, you're okay." The girl's sobs slow down as Callie tries to avoid Addison's eyes.

They get Izzie situated and the girl quickly falls asleep in Addison's arms after Nurse Jessica administers a sedative. Callie and Addison sit for a moment, watching Izzie on her side, peacefully sleeping, the tear tracks still visible on her face. Addison turns her blue gaze on Callie and the resident knows she's got some explaining to do.

"I get it." That's all Callie says, but Addison's face doesn't change. "I mean, I understand where you're coming from, now. She's not Izzie like this, but she's not a blubbering idiot, either."

"I can't do this." Addison's voice is low, broken-sounding. "I just can't do this. She's going to have to be restrained. I left surgery for this. She's interfering with my job."

"She needs you," says Callie, unwillingly. "She needs someone. She's lonely."

Addison gets up and leaves the room, and Callie follows her into the hallway. "She's lonely?" It's a rhetorical question, but Callie answers anyway by putting her arms around Addison.

"I'll see you at home."


	4. Do You Feel My Heartache?

**Do You Feel My Heartache?**

"Okay."

Addison's voice is low, insistent. She and Callie are sitting across from each other in Addison's office, and there's a sea of paperwork between them. Both have tears on their cheeks, but their faces are resolute, and one looking into the room would see how stubborn people really fight. It's not that they don't back down to each other's points; it's that they inwardly refuse to budge, and it shows in their faces.

"Okay, you've made your point. You're sitting here and telling me how easy it would be to give up on the relationship, trying to show me how awful she actually is, and no, it's not because she's incapacitated, no, Callie, it's because she's hurt you. I get it, okay? I get where you're coming from."

"Only you don't, because you refuse to fucking believe what I'm saying. You know she's an adulterous whore; you know that she has deliberately wrecked someone else's life so that she could have her own selfish way, and yet you're loyal? You're loyal to someone who might do the same to you one day?"

"No, I'm not blindly loyal to her despite your insistence that I am. I'm here because it would feel wrong not to be. I've stood by her side and it's been a shitty year, and you know, I've done it; I've stood here, day after day, through her mistakes and mine, and through all the crap and drama that this hospital seems to generate like a freaking factory . . . and now she needs me, Callie."

"And somehow, her past transgressions don't bother you. Somehow, the fact that she hurt me, and I'm your best friend, is easy to overlook. You know, you go on and on about how wonderful she is, and you know what, I can imagine that she really, really is, but it doesn't change the fact that when I needed you, you chose her. And you're going to choose her again, aren't you? You're going to choose her again, and I don't know why. I guess – it's more that I can't understand why."

Addison leans forward, she grabs Callie's hand so hard that the resident gasps. "You don't need to understand why. I am fully aware of her transgressions, as you call them. I am fully aware of how she's hurt other people. But love is about forgiveness, Callie. You're hurt and bewildered and that's really hard, and don't think for a minute that I don't empathize. But you're not empathizing with me. You're not empathizing with her, although I don't expect you to. You keep forcing me to make a decision, it's like you waited until something like this happened to take some sort of revenge. She took your lover, now you're trying to take hers."

Callie's eyes flash and she snatches her hand away. "I can't believe you would accuse me of such a thing. You, of all people."

She gets up to leave, but Addison gets up with her and takes her arm. "I can't figure it out. Do you realize how confusing you're making this? She could die. Worse, she could be like this forever. Do you hate me so much that you would wish something like this on me?" Her voice cracks. "Do you really want to punish me for not going to your side during the whole debacle?"

Callie turns, looks at the place where her arm and Addison's hands meet, and her face crumples. "How could I ever hate you? I don't hate you. I love you. I think you deserve so much fucking better. Leopards don't change their spots."

Addison puts her arms around Callie and draws her dark head down to her shoulder. "She has so many good qualities that you won't see. You won't see them because you're so damaged, and that's okay. I just want you to know that I'm fully aware of what I'm doing, what I'm giving up and what I'm losing with you."

Callie murmurs into Addison's sweet-smelling shoulder. She catches a whiff of expensive shampoo. "Does this mean you've decided?"

Addison bends her head down to Callie's, buries her nose in Callie's hair. When they finish their desperate embrace, both are crying, so it's not really surprising that the kiss tastes like sweet and salty tears. Addison's hands go up to Callie's hair, entangling in the shining black strands, whereas Callie prefers to simply hold Addison to her, sharing the warmth that the attending exudes, both inside and out. It's a cheesy thing to say, but time literally seems to stop.

When things like this happen, nothing seems strange. So really, it doesn't seem weird that the paperwork on the desk gets swept off. It's not cheesy that Addison bends backwards to feel the cold wood on the strip of bare back because her shirt rides up sometimes, and that Callie takes hold of her hips and runs a trail of kisses down her equally exposed stomach. It's not awkward when Addison undoes Callie's bra to reveal those beautiful deep breasts, tipped with a darker rosy-brown nipple, and it's certainly not a strange thing that she leans forward to twirl her tongue around one and nip at it until Callie's wandering fingers finally hit their mark at the base of Addison's clitoris.

The sex is sweet, more so because it's a novelty for Callie (okay, she's had a few female partners, but never ones that knew exactly what they were doing) and it's been so long for Addison, and tears don't cut it. There aren't enough tears to fill up a void so huge that Izzie used to fill. And Callie really doesn't fill it in the same way either, but at least Addison's feeling something other than desperate hope. She thrusts at Callie's fingers, willing them to go faster, rub harder, and when they settle into a deliciously wanting rhythm, Addison, who normally isn't a screamer, feels her voice rise in ecstasy.

Callie likes the feeling of Addie's mouth on her nipples, but she's never really been a boob girl. She takes one of Addison's clenching hands from her side and pushes it down her scrub pants, past the border of her panties, through the softness of her hair and into that wet place that's threatening to soak through. Addison, of course, can multitask, even when she's nearly exanimate with passion. It becomes a bit of a collaboration, thrust, rub, thrust, rub, until Addison can't take it anymore and comes with this little cracked cry that makes Callie flood through with passion. The orgasms are so strong that the table actually moves a few inches and Addie feels the edge bite into the base of her back.

When they're done, it's like every emotion both of them ever had has poured out of them, and Callie has to slump into Addison's desk chair for a moment while Addie lies senseless on the top of her desk. When they both come to, they find that the glazed look takes about ten minutes to completely leave their gazes.

Addison takes off her wet panties and stuffs them into her tote that's lying beside her desk. She methodically puts on her lab coat, adjusts her nametag, brushes her hair through and turns to Callie. "Have I made a decision?"

Callie, from where she sits watching Addison, looks up and nods.

Addison turns, her red hair swirling over her shoulders and heads towards the door. "No."

Izzie's being prepped for surgery today, but that's still a few hours away, so Nurse Jessica's decided to let her practice walking again. Izzie spends most of her days restrained, because after the last time she tried to get up, she's become a liability. Her wrist is healing, but she cries a lot more and that's partly because Addison's inexplicably kept away from her room. Izzie seems to recognize and think about Addison continuously now, and although that's good progress for her, it's hell on everyone else.

Today, Meredith is visiting her. Meredith is still not completely sure what to make of this Izzie, who always sort of took care of her. It's weird to see the bright, shiny, cheerleader doctor in such a vulnerable position. In fact, it's repulsive, which is part of the reason why none of the other residents have made the time to come and see her. That, and the fact that surgery's literally their life, and if they get five minutes to themselves, they're off to an on-call room to catch as many minutes of uninterrupted sleep they can before an annoying intern comes to find them. For once, Meredith actually sympathizes with Bailey.

Izzie holds onto Meredith's hands, her face is set in concentration as she puts one foot in front of the other. "You're doing so well, Izzie, sweetie," says Meredith in her false encouraging tone that makes her sound a little like a small child on helium (and yes, she's aware of it). Izzie looks up and smiles slowly before her slippered foot slips and Meredith has to act fast to grab her before she falls to the floor.

"I gotcha," Meredith gasps under Izzie's weight, which is still more than hers, even though the girl's lost about twenty pounds. Izzie holds onto Meredith's shoulder and rights herself, putting her thumb in her mouth for a moment and standing completely still. Under her feet, a puddle forms. "Shit," mutters Meredith to no one in particular and calls over her shoulder, "Hey, excuse me, Jessica? Hello?"

Izzie looks down. "Wet," she says, matter-of-factly, and Meredith rolls her eyes. "I know. Just stay there."

Izzie can stand on her own, but she's likely to try to wander off, and in her current condition, that can be dangerous. Meredith doesn't want to sit her down on one of the chairs, because she'd make a mess and it's just more for the custodial staff to clean up. Before she can make a decision, though, Izzie squeals in delight. "Addison!"

Sure enough, there's the red-haired attending coming towards them with a smile for both, although it's not as wide as it normally is when she sees Izzie. She's also walking a little funny. Strange. Anyway. Meredith sighs in relief. "Thank God, Addison. I need your help."

"Why?" Addison comes up to the pair and strokes Izzie's slightly tangled hair. "Hi, sweetheart," she says, kissing Izzie's cheek. Izzie makes a happy noise and then pouts. "Wet," she insists, and Addison looks down and grimaces a little. "Ah. I see what you mean. When did this happen?"

"Just now," said Meredith. "I've been with her an hour – no one's changed her for awhile. Anyway, I need you to watch her while I get the nurse." With that, she leaves Izzie in Addison's capable hands. On principle, Addison calls after her, "How'd you get an hour off? Don't you have interns?"

"Yeah, they're attending a training session on laparoscopy and I'm not scheduled for surgery until three." Meredith smiles and continues down the hall while Izzie moves uncomfortably. "Yuck," she murmurs. "Made a mess."

"That's okay, sweetheart. It was an accident." Addison rubs her back and sighs, thinking of Callie's point. Addison's a doctor and she's used to a lot of not-so-pleasant things, but no one wants to see this happen to their loved ones. And looking at Izzie's miserable face, Addison is sure. No one deserves this, no matter their sins.

Nurse Jessica comes back with Meredith and clucks under her tongue. "Uh-oh," she says brightly, wiping a tear from Izzie's cheek. "Had a little accident?"

"Bad girl," says Izzie, and her voice is cracking. "Izzie's a bad girl." Even though no one's said it, everyone looks surprised. She's not quite all there, but she can pick up on nuances. Nurse Jessica tucks a lock behind Izzie's ear. "No, sweetie. Accidents happen to everyone." She helps Addison move the girl into her room, and Meredith takes off after finding a passing custodian. Addison helps Nurse Jessica change Izzie into a fresh diaper and nightgown, and they settle her into bed.

"You're going to have your prep today, remember, Izzie?" The nurse's voice is a little too bright for Addison, who has to stop herself from wincing. "When is that?" she asks instead.

"Dr. Shepherd's going to perform his exam at three, and then she goes under the knife tomorrow at around seven in the morning." The nurse is busying herself with Izzie's IV. "If you could come up when we start the prep, that'd be great, Dr. Montgomery. She's a little hesitant with needles still." Izzie looks alarmed at the word, but Addison pats her hand. "I'll be right there, sweetie. Don't worry."

"Addie? Come here." Even though Addison is right on the bed with her, she puts her arms around the poor girl and Izzie buries her face in Addison's shoulder. Nurse Jessica looks on sympathetically. "She's a little bit off today. I think she's remembering a lot more, something's triggered her. She keeps mentioning you, and George O'Malley, and Callie Torres, surprisingly. We'll see what Dr. Shepherd has to say about it, but it could be a good sign."

Addison's heart twists a little and she holds Izzie a little closer, trying to ignore the drool on her coat, again. "She's remembering more? Has she said anything?"

"Not really. She just keeps repeating names, and she burst into tears this morning for no particular reason. Anyway, it'll all end soon, fingers crossed." The nurse goes out of the room and Izzie suddenly yawns against Addison's neck. "Tired," she murmurs. Addison rocks her a little. "Go to sleep, sweetie."

When Izzie's asleep, Addison steals out of the room, only to run into Callie, who after a telling look, turns around and walks in the opposite direction. "Oh, just fucking don't," Addison snaps, and the tone of her voice stops Callie in her tracks. She waits silently for Addison to catch up.

"Don't," Addison insists, catching an expectant look on Callie's face. "She gets prepped at three and I had sex with you. By tomorrow evening, Callie, she could be Izzie again. And I had sex with you."

"Is it really time for guilt yet?" Callie's eyes are sparkling, despite the fact that Addison's face is dark. "I heard about the little incident from one of the nurses. Sucky," she says, pulling a face that makes Addison want to smack her. She whirls around, grabbing the bigger girl by her shoulders and slamming her against the wall. "What part of "don't" do you not understand?"

Addison is on edge and Callie throws up her hands in surrender, letting them fall onto Addie's shoulders. "Okay, don't," she says, her voice gentle. "I won't, okay."

Addison relaxes into Callie's embrace. "Okay."

Later on, Addison goes back up to Izzie's room. She couldn't make it for the prep; actually, no one could except for George, and he's iffy around Izzie these days. Nurse Jessica gives her a disapproving look, but she understands the demands of surgery. Addison slips into Izzie's room and finds the girl asleep, sedated until tomorrow morning. The machines around her hum soothingly.

Addison sits beside Izzie and takes her hand. "Okay, so I haven't been the greatest girlfriend. I avoided you, even though I knew you couldn't take it. I did some pretty stupid things because I knew you would never know. But tomorrow, you're going to come back, and I want you to know, that whatever I did now . . . well, I'm sorry in advance. Because things have changed and I'm not sure they can go back."

Her voice breaks, the tears slip down her cheeks. "You've been struggling so much these last few months, I don't really know who you are anymore. Maybe you've changed, too. I think I might be hoping a little too much, though." Addison wipes her eyes, sniffles. "She relates to me when you couldn't. And I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

The monitors hum on. Izzie breathes in and out regularly, her nose whistling a bit with her old dust allergy. It always got worse at night.

"I did it, okay. I slept with her because I had this sort of desperate need, because I can't ever tell you how hard it was to look after you like this. You're so difficult and I'm not perfect. And yeah, I love her. I love you, too."

"I'm sorry in advance. I'm sorry for everything. But I don't regret it, because it helped. She helped when you couldn't." Addison bows her head, lets the tears drop onto Izzie's blue coverlet. "I'm a horrible person."

Desperation. It's this horrible biting feeling that doesn't go away, even when we push it to the back of our heads and hearts. You don't have to have all your memories to remember what that feels like.

Addison holds Izzie's hand for a moment, lets it go. "Be well, sweetie. Whatever happens . . . be well."

The OR is cold, and when you're a brain-damaged Izzie, you can't always make sense of why the lights are so bright and there are people in masks bustling about you. But you're too tired and gluey-headed to cry, so you let the doctor count backwards as everything fades out.

And outside your dreamworld, Dr. Derek Shepherd snaps his gloves and booms out in a hearty voice, "Good morning, people. It's a wonderful day to save lives. Let's take care of one of our own."

The anaesthetic takes over and you know no more.


	5. Do You Relate To Me?

It's funny, how time shifts when you're waiting for something. In the space of a surgery, little earthquakes can shake down a whole world. Suddenly, things aren't as they've always seemed. Cut, suture, close. Surgery changes people – and not just the people who are undergoing the procedures. You can believe something before the knife falls and come out on the other side convinced of something completely different. It's a miracle and a catastrophe, but God, how we look forward to it, because it's the spirit of life at its absolute best.

**Hour One**

Addison has just scrubbed out of Izzie's surgery; for one, she's not allowed in there, especially in the sort of mental state she's in; for two, she's going to do more harm than good even if she was allowed in. Derek did take pity on her, though – he let her help count Izzie under the anaesthetic and he let her watch the first incision, then he ordered her out. This is a ten-hour surgery; it's going to require a lot of concentration and thought, and Derek doesn't need any distraction, even from Addison, who holds her emotions well. Addie finishes wiping her hands, takes one long look through the glass at the procedure unfolding, then sighs and turns away, clacking her way back down the basement corridor to the elevator.

When she gets off at Maternity, she meets Callie suddenly in the hallway. With a look that speaks volumes, Addison turns her head and huffs, choosing to walk straight past Callie, who grabs her arm. "No," is all the dark-haired resident says. Addison's back stiffens.

"Excuse me? No?" She pulls her arm from Callie's hand. "Leave me alone, Callie."

Callie looks surprised. "What?"

Addison stops, turns, looks Callie straight in the eyes. "My girlfriend? You know, Izzie? Is undergoing surgery at this very moment. Surgery that could kill her. Surgery that may not even work. I cannot see you right now. Give me a minute to focus completely on Izzie – just a minute. Give me a minute to not have to replace her image in my head with yours."

Callie steps back, makes a sweeping motion with her hands. "Sorry."

Addison nods, continues on her way down the hall and into a patient's room. When it hurts, we push through it. Keep pushing through it.

**Hour Two**

Addison's in a patient's room, doing a consult. "And you say you've had pain in your abdomen for how long?"

"About a month. It just keeps getting worse, especially on the one side."

Addie pushes her red hair back, over her shoulder. "Well, that could be a cyst, but I'd like to do some more tests. I'm going to order an ultrasound." She looks up as the door opens and Callie steps in. "Dr. Montgomery, I need you on a consult."

Addison is puzzled – Callie's an ortho doctor. "I'll be right there, Dr. Torres." She writes a requisition for an ultrasound, carefully not meeting Callie's eyes. When she looks up again, Callie is still waiting at the door, looking impatient. Addison sighs and hands the woman the requisition. "Radiology is on the third floor and to the left. Just follow the signs. We'll call you if there's anything to be worried about." She tries for a reassuring smile and realizes that she's kind of grimacing, so she simply pats the woman on the shoulder and watches her brush past Callie on her way out.

"What? Why the hell would you need a fucking consult? You're ortho." Callie's never seen Addison this angry and she inwardly pales. Outwardly, she remains confident. "I have a pregnant lady who needs her ankle surgically reset. I need you to determine if she's okay to go under the knife. Jesus, Addison. Stop taking out your worry on me. This isn't my fault," she snaps suddenly, and Addie looks shamefaced. "Sorry."

"Whatever. Let's go, we've left her in that exam room long enough." The two charge down the hallway, a pair of iron-faced harpies. Most people get the fuck out of their way, pronto.

When Addison arrives in the exam room, behind Callie, she inwardly gasps at the shard of bone protruding rudely from the poor woman's ankle. The woman is refusing pain meds, but Addison prescribes morphine right away. "There's no way being in that much pain is good for the baby," she explains gently. "This won't hurt your son."

Once the desperate sharp look fades from the woman's eyes, they discuss the upcoming surgery. "Dr. Montgomery will send one of her residents to monitor your baby through the whole thing," assures Callie. "You and your son should be absolutely fine."

"How did this happen, anyway?" asks Addison, leaning forward. When the woman murmurs that she had been in a bad car accident and that her husband was currently in neurology, Addison feels her throat close. "Oh?" she manages.

"Yes. He's in a coma right now," says the woman, her voice flat. "They say they don't know if he'll wake up – it's too early to tell."

Addison feels the sting of tears behind her eyes and knows she's got to get out of there before she starts to cry. "Excuse me," she manages to mutter before she practically stumbles out of the exam room and into the nearest linen closet, which, thanks to some unnamed God, are always conveniently placed close to her. She opens the door and falls to her knees, hands up over her face, tasting the hot salt of the tears that have threatened to come since she woke up this morning.

It's hard to know how much time passes before the door clicks open and Callie steps in. The closet is small, but she manages to squeeze in and kneel beside Addie. "God, you're a fucking mess," she says, but her voice is soft, and Addison leans her head against Callie's shoulder. "Yeah," she mutters foggily, and Callie wraps her arms around Addison.

"Just take it one at a time, _mija_," she whispers, and Addison closes her eyes.

**Hour Five**

Addison is sitting, with Callie, at a table in the cafeteria, and she's listlessly twirling a piece of lettuce around and around on a fork. Callie finally gets annoyed. "Are you going to eat that or just Cirque de Soleil it?"

Addison looks up. "What?"

Callie opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off by the first-year residents, also known as Bailey's old suck-ups, slamming their trays on the table and slumping into their chairs. Cristina, Alex, Meredith and George are all concerned about Izzie, but they don't feel like they have enough authority to barge into Derek's OR to check on her, so they're braving attending wrath to ask about her condition. Callie glares at George and he moves to get up, but Addison puts a hand on his arm and he stays where he is. The red-haired attending throws a reproving look at Callie, who sighs and turns up her nose.

Before they can even ask, Addison flatly says, "She's stable. It's hour five and there's been no complications yet."

Everyone looks relieved and Addison gets annoyed. "You guys haven't even gone up to see her. Okay, Meredith has," she says, throwing a nod in the waifish resident's direction. "But Karev, you've been conspicuously absent. I thought you cared about her. Yang –" she cuts herself off, shaking her head. "Of course, Yang, you've been too busy kissing Dr. Hahn's ass and probably everywhere else to get the best cardio surgeries. God forbid you actually pay attention to your person. And O'Malley. Christ, O'Malley. I expected the most from you. You fucking slept with her." Callie noticeably winces on Addison's left side, but she says nothing. After all, they all deserve it.

Addison gets up, sweeping her tray off the table with one movement, not caring that it clatters on the floor. "You all get concerned now. You all care now. What happened when she couldn't stop crying because she couldn't remember? What happened when she was in so much pain that they had to forcibly put her back into a coma to heal? What happened when she was so confused that she wouldn't eat, move, or even talk?"

They all look shamefaced and upset, but no one says anything. "That's right. She's your friend until she's not Izzie anymore. Why can't any of you fucking relate?"

She stalks out of the cafeteria, leaving the whole room staring after her. After a minute, Callie follows her out and the residents are left staring confusedly at each other.

**Hour Seven**

Addison's lying on the on-call room bed, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. She's at the point where you're so tired of thinking about something that it's actually making you sick to think about it, but Izzie's got three more hours of surgery and she can't check out now. Why did she bother to come to work today? Everything's starting to get to her. She begins to cry, letting the tears roll down the side of her face and into her hair. She doesn't care anymore.

The on-call room door opens and Mark comes in, groaning loudly. "Have you got a free bed in here? If there are any baby interns in this room, they'd better move their ass so that I can lie down. I've just come through a five-hour surgery. You won't like me if I continue to be sleep-deprived." He comes up to the bed and makes to flop down on it until he sees Addie. "Oh, sorry. I'll go somewhere else." He makes to turn away, then notices she's crying. Immediately, his face softens into the look that she loves best. Yes, the McSteamy smile is perfect in all its glory, but the days that she really loved Mark were the days that he looked at her just like this.

She sniffles. "I'll go, Mark. Get some sleep." Her voice is a little wobbly and her lips are pouty, but she feels up to moving until she sits up and a fresh wave of tears hits. Yeah, she's not going anywhere for awhile.

It's hideously inappropriate, but Mark doesn't care. He's always been the one to pick up Addison's pieces for her and even though it's been more than a year since they last slept together, it doesn't mean that he doesn't still love her, sometimes so much that it hurts. He wraps his strong arms around her, she feels his gentle, sensitive surgeon's fingers rubbing the sore place on her back from the crappy hospital mattress, and her head goes down on his shoulder to cry all over it, tears and mucus and saliva, everywhere on his scrubs, because he's the only one that would ever allow that and not care at all.

He doesn't say anything, which is one of the reasons why she still holds affection for him. After her sobs slow down and she feels utterly spent, he rubs her back and passes her the tissues on the bedside table to wipe her face. She sits and sniffles and he lies on the bed and admires the curve of her shoulders and the fall of her hair in the harsh artificial light, and then her pager goes off and she gets up to leave, and he prepares himself to curl into a tight ball for a hard two-hour sleep.

Before she leaves, however, she grabs his hand and he gasps at how cold hers is. "It's going to be fine, right?"

He can't bear not to lie to her. "Yeah. She'll be okay, Addie." His heart sings a high note of pain, but he nods because that's the answer she wants. He always gives her what he wants. She nods, once, twice. He watches the way her hips swing as she walks out the door and she remembers what it's like to feel his stubble on her face. It's fleeting, but somehow it was almost a simpler time.

**Hour Ten – Time's Up**

Derek Shepherd is the best – it's just something he's always known. He's seen a lot of shit inside people's brains over the years, but never has he had a surgery like this one. Assuming that it was a stray bleed in Izzie's brain that caused her regression, he'd gone in thinking that it would be an absolute cakewalk. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Behind the bleed, and yes, there was a bleed, lurked a tumour directly over the language centre of Izzie's brain. He'd gotten it all, but there'd been more trauma than he'd anticipated, and he isn't sure that she's going to come out of this okay. In fact, he's a bit worried that he's practically killed this poor girl, and he knows that it'll destroy Addison.

So, instead of announcing the end of the surgery cheerfully to his OR staff, like he always does, he grunts that he's finished and snaps off his gloves, not even taking the time to admire the neat stitched-up incision in the two-inch shaved strip at the back of Izzie's head. He'd even done it so that her hair will fall over the scar, when the time comes to take the bandages off. That's normally cause for celebration about how wonderful of a doctor he is. Now? He wants to disappear for awhile and avoid Addison's desperate blue eyes.

Izzie is wheeled off to the recovery room and Derek runs a tired hand through his hair. He wants to send one of the residents to tell Addison, but she'd never forgive him. He exits the scrub room, hoping that he can put it off for a little while, but there she is, waiting right outside the door, her face hopeful and conflicted, all at the same time.

"Addie . . . she had a tumour. Directly behind the bleed." Her face crumples and he reaches for her, reaches to keep her sane. "No, no, we saved her, we got it all, Addie."

Her face becomes streaked, but she doesn't break down. "And?"

"And we'll have to wait and see. I'm not sure, Addie. It was a lot of trauma. Too much trauma." He wipes his face, surprised to find tears on it. "She might not wake up. The next few hours –"

" – are critical," she finishes for him, feeling the words like a bad taste in her own mouth. She covers her face and he draws her to his chest, smelling the soft familiar scent of her hair. "She's got a chance. She's young and healthy," he whispers.

"I'm so tired of this," Addison whispers back, and the former Addison and Derek, now separate divorced entities, share an illegal hug in the corridor before Addison turns inexorably towards the recovery room and her maimed lover therein.

**Aftermath**

It's like swimming through glue; it's like the worst headache of your life; it's like filling every one of your limbs with warm wet sand, like the yoga teacher always told you to do, and this is just Nurse Jessica's understanding of what coming out of a coma is like. She has a special attachment to Isobel Stevens, because although she was a tough patient, she was sweet and endearing and beautiful. Now, watching Izzie's quiet white face, the respirator moving her chest rhythmically up and down, Nurse Jessica doesn't think she's ever hoped so much for a patient to get well, and that isn't just because she has to. It's because she sees more than she lets on, and she knows that strong, beautiful Dr. Montgomery will break if something happens to Izzie.

It's been a few hours and Addison's still sitting at Izzie's beside. She wipes the ever-present drool from the girl's mouth and rubs her falsely-warm hands in her own. Nurse Jessica fiddles with the IV; she adjusts Izzie's urine bag, she explains to Addison that even if Izzie comes back to herself, she will have some trouble walking; she will have to retrain her bladder and bowels, and she will be confused and frightened because she won't remember the past six and a half months. In short, she'll be exactly like she was before the surgery, except this time she'll be aware of the hell that she lives in. Addison doesn't want to hear it, so she nods impatiently until the nurse leaves.

Callie slips into the neuro recovery room and squats beside Addison's chair, leaning her dark head against the white arm of Addison's lab coat. "Hey," she sighs out.

"Hey," Addison replies, eyes on Izzie. "No change."

Callie throws a glance at Izzie. "No. Look, Addison," she begins, but Addie raises a hand. "What did I say about needing to focus?"

"I don't care. This is too hard to watch you go through." She stands up, turns to face Addison, who feels herself meet Callie's eyes, despite the fact that she doesn't want to. Callie stands square, but she bounces a little on the balls of her feet, signifying she's nervous.

"Okay, here it is. I love you. I love you more than I've loved anyone, even George, and – I want you to choose us. To choose me. I do." Addison opens her mouth, but Callie ploughs on. "But I can't, in good conscience, take another woman's lover from her. I can't be like she was," – throwing a nod in Izzie's direction. "So you stay with her. You see her through to whatever end's in sight, and when that's done, you can come and find me, if it doesn't work out the way you think."

Callie leans forward, the tears sparkle in her eyes. "Here's the thing, Addison. I can relate. I have related to you through this whole thing. And I can relate even if you stay with her. But don't do it because it's a duty. Do it because you love her . . . and if you don't love her, then don't stay with her. Stay with me, because I'm so ready for you."

With that, she leaves the room.

Izzie's swimming, she's thrusting herself up through that tunnel of glue and she does see the end in sight, she sees the light, and she hears the nurse calling her name, but it's tiring and she's not sure she can get out without help, but eventually everything fades in and she blinks her brown eyes to see someone completely unfamiliar above her eyes.

"Izzie? Izzie, sweetie, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." There's a warm hand in hers and Izzie squeezes hard, she's here, she's with the program, don't leave her in the tunnel of glue again.

"Can you tell me your name?" The unfamiliar face smiles at her, encourages her, and Izzie wants to please. She unsticks her lips, coughs, and a straw is nudged into her mouth. She drinks the cool liquid and opens her mouth, but there's no sound.

"Okay, sweetie, take your time. Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" The face is joined by a small hand, holding up three fingers. Izzie opens her mouth again – she knows the answer – but she can't form the words. Instead, she tries to raise her hand to mimic the gesture, but everything's so heavy and she just ends up closing her eyes for a minute.

In the background, she hears voices discussing her. "We'll give her a few more hours; this is incredibly taxing for her," says the voice that belongs to the unfamiliar face. "She's conscious, at least."

"Thank you, Nurse Jessica," says a very familiar voice, and immediately the red hair and blue eyes of someone Izzie loves very much snaps into her head. "Add," she rasps. "Addis."

No one hears her; they're too busy talking. "We're gonna continue with this IV, at least until she can take more than clear liquids, and then we'll try her with milkshakes, you know, the general idea." Izzie pushes against the sleepiness overwhelming her. "Addison," she manages, her whisper softer than a breath. "Addison," she tries again, trying for voice.

The voices continue and Izzie closes her eyes. She gathers it up, she'll shriek if she has to, just pay attention. "Addison," she squeaks out, managing to touch on the barest amount of voice. "Addison, Addison," she repeats, searching above her heavy head for those familiar eyes.

Addie is half-heartedly listening to Nurse Jessica when she hears the softest voice imaginable, right next to her ear, calling her name. Her eyes snap over to Izzie, who is mouthing something, staring frantically at the ceiling. She grabs Izzie's hand, leans over her, finds the brown eyes, which immediately widen.

"Izzie?" Addie's voice is close to breaking, but Izzie blinks her eyes, once, twice. "Addison, Addison, Addison," she repeats, until Addie leans down to kiss her cheek, and then the tears start falling.

From the door, Callie watches as Addison kisses each of Izzie's cheeks, her dry lips, her eyelids, and each of her fingers. Nurse Jessica's cheeks are wet, but she's smiling broadly.

Callie turns to leave before her own tears can fall, stalking down the hallway quickly, before anyone can catch her near the recovery room.

"Addison," she whispers.


	6. Never Feel Alone

Okay. So you've made it through the hard time – you've ridden over the hump, and now? Now you've got to remember what it's like to live happily ever after. Only – you don't know if you know this person coming home, anymore. You don't know if you can go back to that night on the couch, cuddling against her chest, listening to her heartbeat. The only thing you know is that it's a long, hard road to recovery, and you're already tired, not to mention that she's just as confused, frightened and disabled as she was before the surgery. Except now she knows it and she sees your reactions, and it makes it that much harder, because how can you pretend it's fine when your world has completely changed?

**Two Weeks Later**

In a way, Addison feels that it's a blessing that Izzie is Izzie again. It's such a relief to come into her room and see her welcoming smile instead of a blank stare. It's a wonder and a miracle to hear her laughing and talking without screaming. It's so heartwarming to see her walking slowly in the hallway, or joking with Nurse Jessica, with whom she's struck up a wonderful friendship. It's almost like before.

Except that Izzie's not all right. It took her a week to get her voice back completely, and even now, she stumbles over words and forgets what she's saying. Derek tells Addison that this is normal and as her brain heals, she'll be able to articulate more and communicate like she used to. It makes conversation hard, because Izzie knows what she wants to say, but can't get it out. This alone will shut her up for hours on end, at least until Addison comes and then she struggles to tell her about a day seen from a hospital bed.

Izzie can walk – she does it slowly, and gets dizzy easily, but she walks. She still wears diapers, because her bladder and bowels have atrophied and she needs to retrain them. This alone is a cause of embarrassment, but considering what a good sport she's been about everything, it's really the least of her problems. She's still on a liquid diet, because she seems to have a little trouble chewing. Everyone's hoping that with rest and relaxation, she'll be able to be cleared for surgery in another few months. Izzie has a goal – she will be back on her feet within three or four months, no question. Addison hopes that she can do it.

Today, Izzie is going home, and she seems happier than Addison's ever seen her. As Addie helps her pack, Izzie is trying to dress herself. She's managed the pants, but the shirt's proving to be a bit of a problem. Addison waits quietly – Izzie can ask her for help, but she won't offer it until the girl asks. Izzie needs to learn to do things for herself again, and it's tough to watch, but that's the way it goes.

Izzie gets one arm in; she studies the way the shirt is made and figures out the other arm, and then tries to navigate the buttons. Surprisingly, her fingers are still a bit trembly, and she can't quite manage to button them. She raises frustrated eyes to Addison. "Addie, can you? Please?" She sighs, hating her limitations, and Addison's heart aches for her.

"Sure, sweetheart. Hold on." She comes over and deftly buttons down Izzie's blouse. Once the girl is dressed, she seems calmer. "Can't wait to get out of here," she ventures, and Addison nods. Conversation is so stilted these days. Izzie once asked Addison, a couple of days after she came out of the coma, what had happened. That conversation had been an exercise in empathy and patience.

"You don't remember what happened?" Addison had asked carefully, looking at Izzie, who shook her head a little painfully. "No . . . I remember the car accident, that's all." She'd shifted uncomfortably in the bed and winced because her headache was worse than anything she'd ever felt in her life. "How long has it been? A week or two?"

Addison had looked down at her hands and then back up at Izzie, whose eyes had widened. "More than a month?"

"Sweetie . . . you were in a coma for two weeks. When you woke up, your brain damage was pretty severe . . . you weren't you, anymore." Addison's eyes dimmed a little with tears, but she blinked them away. "You underwent a third surgery three days ago to clear a stray bleed, and they found a tumour. They got it all, but it's been about six and a half months since the accident."

Izzie had turned white. "Six and a half months?" She turned her head to the window, and then back to Addison. "What do you mean, I wasn't me? What was I like?"

Addison sighed. "You were . . . brain-damaged, Izzie. You were difficult and confused and upset, and you could be quite demanding. I don't think we need to discuss that, right now. You've just come out of a difficult surgery. You need to rest."

Izzie closed her eyes. "You stayed for six months? You looked . . . you took . . . you looked out for me, all that time? You came and saw me?" Her eyes flew open and filled with tears. "You stayed with me through all of that . . ." She began to cry. "You're more beautiful than I ever realized."

Although the words were awkward, Izzie's tone was so heartbreaking that Addison had reached for her hand. "Don't cry, sweetie. Come on, you're going to get a bad headache." She stroked a stray curl peeking out from under Izzie's bandages, tried to doctor her a bit. She carefully avoided meeting Izzie's eyes.

"You stayed with me."

"Yeah."

"Okay, I think I'm ready," says Izzie, and carefully swings her legs over the side of the bed. Small movements can trigger bad headaches and Izzie's still on codeine-filled pills to stop the pain. She shuffles forward and Addison helps her into the wheelchair. As soon as she sits down, Izzie is out of breath, and Addie's heart is breaking for her. "Okay, let's go sign the discharge papers," she says, knowing her voice is too bright, too jollying-along. Izzie simply murmurs a yes and leans her head against her hand, as if it's too heavy to hold up.

Nurse Jessica meets them at the nurses' station. "I'm going to miss you, Izzie," she says, trying to smile. "But no one's happier than me that you get to finally go home."

Izzie smiles back. "Well, I'll miss our games of Crazy Eights and Go Fish! I still think that you should have taught me something better than that, I know I remember how to play Gin Rummy somewhere," she says, wrinkling her brow. Nurse Jessica reaches out a hand to touch Izzie's arm, and Izzie holds open her arms for a hug. "Thank you so much," she whispers, and Nurse Jessica smiles into Izzie's shoulder. "You take care, and when you come back, come up for a visit sometime," she says.

About ten feet away, Addison is signing the papers without really reading them. Blah blah, standard discharge forms, she has Derek's pager number and the number of the night neuro attending, etc. She's so engrossed with just trying to get through paperwork, which she hates with a passion, that she doesn't see when Callie comes up behind her. Because she doesn't see her, she jumps five miles into the air. "Jesus Christ!"

Callie grins. "Miss me?" She's been carefully keeping away from Addison through Izzie's recovery time. This is partly because she's mortified that she poured her heart out to the elegant red-haired attending, and partly because she knows Addison needs to get to know Izzie all over again. They met once, in the hallway, shortly after Izzie woke up, but they didn't speak. The only acknowledgement had been a small, knowing smile on the part of Callie and a rubbing of the eyes from Addison.

"Yes," says Addison before she thinks. "I mean, I miss talking to you. And I miss you at home," she whispers, so that Izzie can't hear her. The girl's busy with the neuro staff anyway, since she was the sweetheart of the floor. "And I've thought about what you said. But –"

"Don't say it. I don't want to talk about that. I came to see if everything was okay for getting Izzie home," Callie overrides her, raising a hand.

"Yeah, it is." Addison pushes a hand through her hair and files the discharge papers in the correct file. All nurses' stations are set up the same in Seattle Grace. "She's ready to get home. Can you call me later?" she blurts before she can stop herself.

"Yeah, I can do that." Callie's hand snakes towards Addison's arm and stops a few inches away. "I'll call you later."

Izzie looks up from her conversation, her eyes sleepy. "Hi, Callie." Now that she's back to normal, things are as weird as they've ever been, but Callie isn't about to hit a sick girl when she's just had brain surgery. "Hey. Looking forward to heading home?"

"Yeah. Are we going, Addie?" Izzie looks so exhausted that Addison wants to cradle her in her arms like she used to before the surgery. "Yes, sweetheart. Let's get you home."

Callie accompanies them as far as the elevator and then turns in the opposite direction, but not before promising to call Addison later once more. Izzie looks surprised, but she doesn't say anything, so Addison simply rides the elevator down with her and out the main hospital doors.

Mark, surprisingly, offered to drive Addison's silver Mercedes to the front of the hospital to make it easier on Izzie, and she wants to throw her arms around him when he gets out of the driver's seat, McSteamy smile in full voice. "Hi, Izzie, darling. You look absolutely stunning."

She grimaces at him. "Shut up, Sloan. I look like shit. And I feel like shit, too." She yawns widely and makes to get up, but Mark quickly rushes to the side of the wheelchair to support her. "How about you let me open the door for you? You know, like a real gentleman?"

Izzie gives him a satirical smile. "Since when have you been a real gentleman?" But she lets him half-carry her to the car and lift her in. Addison reaches down to buckle Izzie's seatbelt before she realizes that the girl already has it in place. "Gotta let me do it myself, Addie," she smiles, but her voice is a little sharp and Addison reminds herself again that Izzie's normal, she can do things without help for the most part.

Mark waves goodbye and the two drive home in stilted silence. When Addison looks over at Izzie, she sees that the girl is paper-white and her eyes are closed. Maybe she should have stayed in the hospital a little longer . . . but she'd pushed so hard to get home, saying she'd rest better, that Addison couldn't resist and let her go, with Derek's cautious approval. Now, though, she looks like she did just after the surgery – pale and sick.

Addison pulls into the brownstone and shuts off the car. Izzie licks her lips carefully. "Now, here's the thing," she murmurs, her voice just above a whisper. "If I move now, I might throw up. And I don't wanna do it in this car."

Addie nods and says, "Just take it easy, sweetie." In a minute, Izzie opens her eyes. "Okay, I think I'm okay to go, now."

Addison opens the car door and Izzie slides her legs out, and with Addison's help, she shuffles slowly up the driveway. "It's nice out here," she murmurs, breathing in the fresh fall air. Addie nods and smiles. "You've always loved fall." Izzie smiles back. "Yeah."

They get to the front door, Izzie taking glacial steps. The stairs are a little hard for her, but thankfully, there aren't many. Addison took the liberty of setting up a bed on the pullout couch downstairs for the time being – when Izzie feels like going upstairs, she can, but for now, Addison wants a place where the girl can crash. She looks over at the girl, whose face is white and sweaty. When she shuffles forward, you can hear her diaper crinkling under her pants, and her shoes make a scuffling noise because she won't pick up her feet. Since she's had surgery, Izzie has a horrible fear of falling. Addison doesn't think she's ever found the girl less attractive, but she's warm towards her, all the same. There's a warmth, like you would have for a favourite child.

Addison unlocks the door and helps Izzie in. As she does so, Izzie swears under her breath and stands still for a moment. "Shit, shit, shit," she mutters and puts a hand to her crotch. "I've been so good today, too."

"Did you just have an accident?" Addison tries to keep her voice light, but they all know how this is. It's embarrassing and mortifying, and it's going to take Izzie another little while to regain full continence. Addison doesn't much like changing diapers, either, but she does it, because, well, one does. You can't just leave her to fend for herself. Izzie nods, barely, but says nothing else.

"Let's get you in the door and then I'll help you get changed," she says, helping Izzie take off her coat and settling her on the couch. "I don't get to go upstairs?" Izzie whispers, but she closes her eyes anyway and stretches out her arms. "This is still loads better than the hospital bed."

"You can go upstairs tonight if you feel up to it, sweetheart." Addison busies herself with the supplies she needs to help Izzie change and then awkwardly stands in front of her. "How do you want to do this?"

Nurse Jessica has schooled them both in this sort of activity, but it's weird as all hell when you actually have to do it. Izzie would much prefer to take care of it all herself, but it's not an option because she just doesn't have the coordination right now. "Well," Izzie begins, and grimaces a little. "God, Addie, I have no idea. Just do it already; it's not like sitting in wet pants is comfortable!"

"I remember when you used to like me to touch you down there," grumbles Addison and Izzie starts to laugh. "Well, soon enough you won't have to do this and it'll be back to regular programming." She closes her eyes so that she doesn't have to see Addison lower her pants and get on with the business. Addison winces herself, but she completes the job and then disposes of all the mess. When she comes back, Izzie's face is streaked with tears.

"Hey," Addison murmurs, but Izzie turns her head away. "I just . . . I just need to be alone for a bit? Just a little bit," she sniffles, and curls carefully into a fetal position. "I just have to get used to being me again. Me like this, you know."

Addison nods and feels a little hurt, but in all actuality she's glad to get away from Izzie when she's in this mood. As if on cue, her BlackBerry rings and she gratefully sighs when she sees the name. "Callie," she says immediately, as soon as the phone clicks on.

"Jesus, you sound desperate. Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut up. I just had to change a diaper. I'll bet nothing you did today even measured up to that."

"Well, I did drain a disgusting pus-filled cyst, but no, nothing did measure up to changing my girlfriend's diaper. God, poor Izzie."

"Yeah, to say the least. I miss you." And suddenly it's all flooded back.

There's silence on the phone as Callie considers what's been said.

Then, "I miss you too, mija. Come over here."

Addison aches to get her coat.


	7. I Don't Know What's Wrong

Addison sneaks around the corner of the kitchen to peer in at Izzie, who is curled on her side, asleep on the couch. She's twisting her fingers back and forth in indecision; she's got a knot in the pit of her stomach, and she can feel a small finger of sweat trailing down her spine. Her BlackBerry is clutched in her hand and her numbers are poised to dial Meredith's pager number, because she knows the resident is off today and she's probably available to sit with Izzie while Addison goes out. But she's freezing, because on any given day six months ago, she wouldn't have dreamed of sneaking out to meet her sort-of forbidden lover at the Archfield. She wouldn't have dreamed of leaving Izzie's side if she was sick. Now, however? She's aching to walk out that door. And she's kicking herself with the selfishness and horror of it all.

Finally, she ducks back into the kitchen and hits the numbers. Fuck it. Izzie will sleep for another two hours anyway, and she can be home in plenty of time. She assures herself that she's going to go and talk to Callie, friend to friend, and put an end to all of this, once and for all. She loves Izzie. Addison forces herself to imagine Izzie as she was before the accident; her gentle smile, her graceful body, the way she seems to float when she walks. Keeping this image in her head, Addison completes her dialing and swallows hard when Meredith answers.

"Hi, Meredith, it's Addison Montgomery here – I'm just wondering if you've got a few hours to sit with Izzie? I've got to run out to the hospital and complete some paperwork that's due to the lab at the end of the day. You can? Thank you so much. She's asleep right now – she shouldn't need anything, but you can page me if anything complicates."

Addison goes into the den to sit with Izzie until Meredith arrives. The girl is sleeping more soundly than she ever did in the hospital. Her breathing is regular, her body completely relaxed. On a whim, Addison puts a hand on her back and feels her heart beating strongly. Her eyes suddenly fill with tears. What the hell is she doing? She goes to pick up her BlackBerry again, but there's a knock on the door.

Meredith comes into Addison's house a little hesitantly. "Hi, Dr. Montgomery," she says shyly, like the proverbial thirteen-year-old babysitter. "How's Izzie?"

"Asleep, and hopefully she'll stay that way. If she wakes up and her head hurts, you can give her some Tylenol 3 – it's over on the counter in the kitchen. She can have two. She might need help to get to the bathroom, which you can help her with, and she also might need changing. If that's the case, give me a call and I'll come home. She can have anything she wants to drink, but nothing solid to eat, yet."

Meredith nods and scribbles the instructions efficiently down on her medical pad that she keeps with her at all times. "She should be fine, I think. She must be pretty wiped."

"Yeah. I'll be back in two hours, less if I can help it." With that, Addison leaves Izzie in Meredith's capable hands and stalks to her Mercedes. Yes, she's aware that she can still turn back; put it off until tomorrow or have someone fax some papers to her to give the impression of legitimate commerce, but she inexorably turns the key in the ignition and the car purrs to life. She's aware that she could still turn back – run in, say she isn't comfortable with leaving Izzie, and send Meredith home, but she backs down the driveway, looking carefully behind her, stopping to wait for the cars to clear on Sumner St. before she pulls out into the flow of traffic. She's aware that she still could go back, even though it's been ten minutes and she's pulling onto the ferry dock, but she drives onto the boat and watches the port and starboard lights flash as the boat pulls away from the shore.

When she arrives at the Archfield, she sweeps into the elevator without a word to the soporific attendants at the desk. She knows the room number like she knows her phone number – she's been here before, to pick Callie up for drinks or dinner. Even though the elevator is swooping up – even though she's stepping out, her Manolos sinking into the plush carpet; even though she's standing at Callie's door, staring at the gold room number gleaming in the soft light, she knows she can still call this off. She can turn back and go home to Izzie.

Addison raises her fist and knocks on Callie's door.

Izzie is sleeping – no change. Meredith flips through Addison's bookshelf, finding a bunch of boring philosophy and then at the very back, some racy romance novels. Smiling cynically to herself, she pulls one out and true to form, a bunch of them clatter down loudly on the wooden shelf. Izzie startles awake, her eyes wide and confused until she registers Meredith. "Hey," she says, confused.

"Hey." Meredith comes to sit gently on the side of Izzie's bed. "How do you feel?"

"Head kills," Izzie said, wincing. "Where's Addie?"

"Had to go out to the hospital to pick up some paperwork." Meredith picks up the Tylenol 3s and shakes out two. She fetches Izzie's glass of water from the bedside table and hands the girl the pills, then holds the glass for her while she noisily sips a gulp of water. "Those should help," says Meredith, her voice soft.

Izzie closes her eyes. "When's Addison going to come back?"

"In a few hours. Do you want anything?"

"No. Well . . . no. Mer?"

"Yeah?"

"Where is she really? It's Tuesday. She doesn't have to complete paperwork for the lab."

Meredith looks taken aback at the intensity of Izzie's expression. "I don't know, Iz. That's what she said she had to do."

Izzie sighs and her face crumples. "Christ, my head is killing," she gasps, her voice breaking. She suddenly begins to sob, at first a few cracked ones, like a child, and then the floodgates open. Meredith climbs up on the bed beside her and wraps her arms around Izzie. "The medicine will work in a moment," she soothes. "Don't cry; it'll just make your headache worse." Izzie leans her head against Meredith's soft, small chest, and tries to stop sobbing. "I want Addie," she whispers.

"I'll call her," says Meredith, and picks up the phone.

Callie pulls open the door and smiles when she sees it's Addison. "Hey. That was quick."

"Meredith is staying with Izzie. I need to talk to you." Addison pushes past an amused Callie into her room and casts a look around it. "Jesus, Callie, don't you clean?"

"No. That's what maids are for."

"Nice. Stop perpetuating the stereotype that trust fund babies are rich spoiled bitches."

"Well, we are," Callie tosses Addie a smoldering look. "We're also hot and good in bed. Care to try?"

"Shut up. I need to discuss this . . . thing we have going on." Addison sits down gingerly on the edge of the bed. She crosses, and then uncrosses her legs, threading the chain of her Christian Louboutin clutch through her hands. "It needs to stop."

Callie raises her eyebrows. "Stop?"

"Yeah. Stop. As in, this can't go further. Not when I have her on my hands."

"But that's just it, Addison. She's "on your hands". I haven't once heard you say you're happy she's home, or that you're dying to share a bed with her again. All I've heard is you desperately breathing into a phone, close to a panic attack. I've gotta ask – do you think this is healthy?"

Addison throws up her hands. "Shut up. I don't want to talk about her. I want to talk about us. We have to stop doing this, because I –" She stops, her face crumpling. "I can't give into you when she's like this. I can't be with you when she needs so much help. I know what she's done to you . . . but she never hit you when you couldn't control yourself. She never did that to you, Callie."

Callie crosses her arms, drops them to her sides, walks agitatedly around the room and stops dead in front of Addison. "Fine. You want to stop this? You want to stop all of this?"

Addison nods, and Callie bends to look her straight in the eyes. "Really? You want this all to stop? Prove it to me. Prove that you want to walk away and not come back."

Addison feels her insides start to melt. "Callie –"

"Shut up. Prove it to me that you don't want this." With that, she kisses Addison, full on the lips.

The kiss is electrifying; Addison can literally feel it from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she's paralyzed as Callie's tongue thrusts its way into her mouth and tangles with her tongue; she can't move when Callie's hands find their way to her breasts, tracing around her nipples until they raise and push against her soft white blouse. Addison simultaneously pulls Callie to her and pushes her away, practically screaming, "I can't do this!"

Callie, hands busy over Addison's curves, murmurs into her ear, "You sure?"

As Callie lowers Addison onto the bed, the attending's BlackBerry rings.

"Is Addison coming?" asks poor Izzie, who at this point can barely keep her eyes open. The pain is abating somewhat; the discomfort of aching limbs, a throbbing head, a wet diaper and a growling stomach has not. Meredith looks like she's going to cry herself. "I've called her three times, Iz."

"Well, call her again, please," Izzie whimpers, hating herself for needing this much. Meredith runs a hand over Izzie's back and redials. This time, Addison answers, sounding out of breath.

"What's up, Meredith?"

"Izzie's awake and she's a bit upset. I think she'd like you to come home." Meredith's voice is matter-of-fact, and it brings Addison out of her lusty daze. She pushes Callie away and stands up, straightening her blouse. "What's wrong?"

"Well – why don't you just speak to her?" And with that, Meredith hands the phone to Izzie, who grips it like it's going to save her life. "Addie?" she whimpers into the phone, and Addison's heart wrings. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" she says, her voice meltingly sympathetic. Two tears trace their way down Izzie's cheeks.

"I need you. Why aren't you here?"

The question is so simple and Addison feels like the world's hugest bitch, which, let's face it; right now, she is. "I'm just finishing up; I'll be home in about half an hour. Can you let Meredith help you until I can get there?"

"No, I need you. Come now, okay?" Izzie is aware that she sounds like a child, but she just really needs Addison. "It's not an emergency, but . . ."

"But you just need me. It's okay. I'll be there soon," says Addison gently.

She hangs up her phone and turns to Callie. "Like I said. Stop."

With that, she walks out the door.

Meredith has gone home and Izzie is cuddled up on the couch, freshly sponge-bathed, changed, fed and medicated. Addison is lying beside her with her arms snugly around her. "Feeling better now?" she murmurs to Izzie, who makes a comfortable affirmative noise. She snuggles closer to Addison, wrapping her arms around her waist so that they can lie face to face.

"I'm so glad you're here," she whispers.

Addison thinks fleetingly of Callie. "So am I," she whispers back, pushing down the twinge of desire.

Izzie turns, snuggling into her pillows. "I just have one question. You were at the hospital, right?"

"Yeah, I was."

"Why does your neck smell like Swiss Army For Her?"

Shit. Oh, shit.


	8. Empty Home

Addison raises her head a little off the pillow. "What did you say?"

"You smell different . . . like Swiss Army For Her. You wear Christian Dior." Izzie's voice is matter-of-fact. "Where were you really, Addison?"

"At the hospital, I told you. I ran into Mrs. Hatfield, you remember, the young mother that had her baby a few months ago. She gave me a hug. Maybe you're smelling her perfume."

Yes, Addison knows she just told a bald-faced lie. She also knows that if she actually told the truth, Izzie runs the risk of experiencing harmful stress and horror that could throw her into a seizure. No matter how she feels about Izzie romantically, she still loves her enough not to send her into more pain. Now, Izzie sighs and cuddles closer against Addison's neck. "Maybe that's it. Sorry . . . I'm getting paranoid."

Addison looks down at the bandaged head on her shoulder and her heart skips a beat. "Why would you say that, sweetie?"

"I don't know. From what you've told me, I wasn't anything beautiful during the past six months. I couldn't give you what you needed. Now I'm hurt and sick and needy, and you have to look after me even now. I guess . . . I guess I'm just worried that you're . . . not in love with me, anymore." Izzie's voice is trembling, and Addison tightens her arms around her. Her heart is shredding; God, this girl picks up more than anyone gives her credit for.

"Of course, I love you. Of course I do," Addison whispers to Izzie, pressing her lips against the girl's forehead. "I think you're very, very tired; I also think that it's time for you to eat something. Your blood sugar is low – that's why you're in such a horrible mood."

Izzie sighs. "I just want you to stay here. Do you have to get up?" There's a hint of tears in her voice and Addison looks down at her. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Really? Why are you so upset?"

"I'm afraid I'm losing you," Izzie whispers.

Addison holds her close and doesn't know what to say.

Callie is pacing around her trashed hotel room, tossing things out of her way, her phone in her hands. Every phone call she's making to Addison's BlackBerry is going straight to voicemail. Every text message and IM she's sending isn't being answered. When Addison stormed out, she left a finality behind her that sunk into Callie's heart, and now, now that Addison's ignoring her, Callie can't take it.

It's not that she hates Izzie anymore at all. She realizes Addison's obligations. But before, it was like a bit of a conspiracy – she and Addie, against poor stupid Izzie, lying in her hospital bed with restraints on her wrists. Now, it's Izzie and Addison against her. She can't take another person leaving her. Not another person leaving her for Izzie.

Callie's never felt that bad about her weight. In fact, to many, many men, the dark-haired, black-eyed beauty with the luscious curves was preferable to any blonde bombshell. And in her heart, she knows that reason is not why Addison isn't answering her phone. Addison practically drools over every part of Callie's beautiful body. But the insecurity is there – it's about being the fat girl in the back of the class, slumping in her desk, trying to hide her tears behind all that long black hair.

And sitting on her bed, Callie does what she did then, and lets out all that suppressed pain in the form of red tears. Sometimes, the razor hurts so fucking good.

Addison holds the straw for Izzie while she sips at a milkshake, and the girl is silent, deep in thought. She swallows carefully, knowing that even if she's starving, she has to eat slowly or she'll throw it all back up, and she doesn't want to give Addison another reason to leave.

To this moment, she doesn't know why Addison would leave her like that. Surgical patients go through a form of insecurity, shortly after their time under the knife. It has to do with shock, but it also has to do with living with their altered selves. One of the worst things you can do is to bring up something life-changing during this time. You don't accuse, you don't blame, you don't deny. Post-surgery is one time where everything should ideally go the patient's way, to facilitate healing.

Addison, as a surgeon, knows this. So when her BlackBerry buzzes, she pushes it further away from her, but not before Izzie sees the name on the screen. "Callie Torres".

"Why does she keep calling here?" Izzie's voice is clear and low, but that's normally the signal to explain yourself fucking fast before she turns on you. Addison swallows nervously. "She's worried about me," she says before she thinks, and Izzie turns her gaze onto Addison.

"Why would she be worried? You can handle this, right?" Izzie's voice goes up a little at the end of her sentence, and Addison opens her mouth to tell her of course she can, when something different comes flying out instead. "It's tough."

Izzie licks her lips, looks down at the milkshake. "Oh." She pushes the cup away and carefully gets out of bed and to her feet, shuffling off without a word. It takes Addison a full minute to realize that Izzie's out of bed before she springs to her feet to run after her. "Izzie?"

Izzie is on her knees in the hallway, and she's throwing up onto the ceramic tile floor, sobbing and gasping, her pajama pants riding up her legs to expose the thin sticks that they actually are. Addison leans down next to her and holds her tightly, waiting for the spasms to stop. When they do, she strokes back Izzie's hair and whispers, "Why didn't you ask me for help?"

Izzie doesn't answer her, so Addison helps her up and back to bed. When she's cleaned up the mess in the hallway and brought Izzie a fresh water bottle, the girl is on her side again, her face turned away from Addison. Addie's about to leave her to sleep when she hears, "Because it's too fucking tough."

"What?"

"Just tell me, Addison."

There's a silence, and then –

"I slept with Callie."

"Yeah."

Callie's eyes are glazed, her arms are streaked like a Jackson Pollock painting, she's sitting on the bathroom floor and the world is spinning, and she doesn't hear the door click open and Mark Sloane walk in.

Mark and Callie have been occasionally getting together for drinks and dinner, occasionally rough, dirty sex where Mark grinds her into the mattress. He seems to be able to sense when she really needs a good fuck, although this time he was simply passing and decided to see if she was home. He comes around the corner, black leather jacket, gunmetal grey jeans and McSteamy smile making him just about the best piece of meat you'd ever get to suck off, when he comes into the bathroom and sees her on the bathroom floor.

The first person he calls isn't 911, or a taxi, or even her parents, although he knows the number from when she gave it to him during Christmas holidays. The first person he calls is Addison – and this time, she picks up.

"Mark, for fuck's sake, I've told you not to call me here!" Her voice is broken and full of sobs, but he can't stop to figure out what's wrong. "Don't even start with me, Addison. Get your ass to the hospital, now. Callie's fucking cut up her arms, God, it's a mess."

He hangs up the phone and calls the ambulance. Twenty minutes and forty-five seconds later, they arrive at the ambulance bay to meet Bailey, the interns and George O'Malley, who are absolutely shocked at the sight of their Chief Resident mutilated beyond belief.

Addison is noticeably absent.

"Izzie –"

"Shut up. How long?" Her voice is carefully controlled, very quiet, very steely. Addison swallows against her stomach rising in her throat. "It was only once. Just before your third surgery."

"I see." Izzie doesn't turn over. "So that's where you were. Why did you lie?"

"I didn't want to hurt you." It sounds so lame, now. So damn lame. Once again, for the second time in her life, Addison is the one wrong-footed, the one thrown off balance.

"Can you call Meredith, please?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to go and stay there and I need her help to pack my things and to get over there, since I can't even walk across the fucking room without vomiting. You'd better show her how to change me, too. Oh, and tell her all the instructions for looking after Izzie, because she's too weak and stupid to take care of herself." Izzie's voice is cutting and bitter, and Addison covers her face with her hands. "God, Addie, how could you do it? How could you leave me when I needed you so much?"

Addison has no answer. Izzie doesn't wait for one. "I mean, I should have known. You wouldn't find me desirable, not after everything. But I never thought you'd go so far as to leave me when I'm so sick. I never thought you'd go to her when I needed you. What is this, anyway?" She sits up suddenly, puts a hand to her aching head. "What the fuck is this? Are you two punishing me for what I did to Callie a year ago? Am I to be punished for something that's been over for ages? Am I still a horrible person, after all of that?"

Izzie struggles to her feet before Addison can stop her. "You don't find me desirable, that's huge, right? You don't fucking find this desirable?" She fumbles with the buttons on her pajama top, rips it off finally, exposing her breasts. "This isn't desirable to you?"

Addison gasps. "Izzie –"

"Fuck off. I am desirable. I'm still the same person I always was, Addison. I'm not brain-damaged anymore, I'm better, and you still choose her over me. I'm not desirable, that's fine. Just fucking tell the truth for once in your life!"

With that, she passes out.

Callie is lying on a gurney, her head is muzzy from loss of blood, and beside her she can see Mark stitching one of her arms as a pint of blood flows into the vein in the other. George is dabbing at her cuts with an alcohol swab and wrapping her other arm, which is apparently stitched back up.

"Mmm," she groans, the tears suddenly coming hard and fast, as they always do after a cutting jag. Mark stops stitching and waves George out. He takes her in his strong arms and holds her close. "Goddamn, you're a stupid idiot," he whispers fiercely. "I don't care what the hell's going on; you don't do that to yourself!" His voice is cracked and she turns into him, smelling the sharp smell of his cologne through his scrubs.

"She left," sobs Callie brokenly. "She left and she's never coming back." Mark holds her tighter. "Yeah, it gets easier," he whispers. "She's never going to leave completely."

Addison bursts through the door of the exam room. "What the FUCK is going on?" Mark has never seen her this livid, and Callie has certainly seen her in many moods, but never this. She charges over and runs a finger over Callie's bandage. "What would have ever possessed you to do this to yourself? Jesus Christ!" Her voice is hysterically high and Richard Webber comes in behind her.

"Addison, go and attend to Izzie," he says firmly. "Leave Torres alone for now."

She turns to leave, then turns back. "Jesus, Callie. I can't be pulled between the two of you. I can't be forced to choose like this."

Callie says nothing, but her eyes say it all anyway. Addison's made her choice.

Izzie, thankfully, is fine, despite the fact that she went into a petit mal seizure when she passed out from stress. Meredith was called and she's making arrangements to take Izzie home as soon as she's stabilized. Addison is sitting outside Izzie's room, and she's crying. For once, she doesn't care who sees her – it's a punishment anyway. When things spiral out of control like this, sometimes it's hard to trace the path back to the beginning, see where you went wrong. For Addison, it's all so easy to find out where she fucked up. It's a gift and a curse, being able to see clearly and make the wrong decision anyway.

Meredith comes out of Izzie's room and gives Addison a reproving look. "She wants to see you."

Izzie is lying in bed and her face is paper-white. Her eyes are nearly closed from the sedative, but she fixes them on Addison. "Come over here," she slurs.

Addison comes and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. "Izzie . . ."

"No. I'm going to say this once." Izzie clears her throat and tries to widen her eyes, but they fall to half-closed slits again. "You need to make a decision, here. Her, or me. And I'm going to tell you now that it should be me, if only for the fact that we've had a fucking relationship and all you've done is fuck her."

Addison looks down at her hands. "Izzie."

"Shut up! Do you remember last summer, when we went to the lake?" Addison looks up to meet Izzie's eyes. "Remember when you dived off the top of the rock? God, you were so beautiful . . ." Izzie's voice breaks and her lips curve down. "We drank tequila and you told me you'd want to stay with me for the rest of your life."

"Hold onto that promise, please." That's all Izzie says, but Addison's hand snakes across the covers to grip Izzie's cold one. Izzie's fingers curl around Addison's and she raises her hand to her lips. "I love you. I find you desirable."

"Sometimes, that can be enough. Let me get better."

Addison's tears streak her face. "I'll do my best."


	9. Just Play Another Song

It's a pause. And damn, does it ever feel like one.

It's been a week since the double hospital episode. It's been a week of an empty house; of sitting by herself in the family room, sipping from a bottle of Shiraz; of lying in bed without the benefit of a warm body beside her, because she hasn't gone to see Callie, either. Meredith came to pick up Izzie's things at the beginning of last week. It hadn't been the best time for Addison.

"That should be everything. Clothes, supplements, diapers, medication . . ." Addison had leaned over the duffel bag, flipping through it with her fingers. She straightened up and handed the bag to Meredith. "Okay, then."

Meredith gave her a sympathetic look. "Don't worry; I'm not going to let her stay long. I've got the week off this week, but next week we're all back at work and no one will be able to sit with her or help her with things. I think . . . she just needs a break," she had said carefully, and Addison had nodded, dropping her eyes to hide the sudden mist of tears.

"I don't blame her," she whispered. Meredith had simply looked at her. "It's not like she's completely innocent, either, Addison. She's done this before, just not to you."

"She doesn't deserve what I did to her."

"No one does," and Meredith looked away, and Addison remembered the rumours she had heard of Derek dating other people, and of course, she remembered her own part in the Meredith/Derek saga. On a whim, she reached out and squeezed Meredith's shoulder, and the tiny girl stepped forward and gave Addison a warm hug.

"It'll work out," she whispered into Addison's ear. "No judgement here."

That was always the good thing about Meredith. There never was any judgement.

Now, Addison twirls the phone in her hands. She's already called Izzie twice, and there's been no answer. Inexorably, Callie's image rises into her mind, and she closes her eyes against it. However, the last time she saw Callie, she was cut up and hurt. She feels like, as a friend, she should call her to see if she's okay. When she dials, however, there's no answer there, either.

Addison buries her face in her hands and stares through her fingers at the floor. She's a successful surgeon; she has a beautiful house, a nice car, and all the money she's ever wanted. Why, then, is life still so fucking hard?

Izzie is lying on the bed, upstairs, next to Alex's room, which used to be George's room. George now lives in the basement of Meredith's house, which has been converted into a bachelor apartment, and this room is the guest room. Meredith is helping her get ready for bed. She's become quite adept at all the care that Izzie needs, which makes it easier on both of them. Meredith reminds her of Nurse Jessica, who simply dressed/changed/helped her bathe without awkwardness or words.

"You'd make a good nurse," says Izzie, as Meredith pulls her pajama pants up and then helps her sit up. Meredith wrinkles her nose. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"

Izzie laughs. "No! I just meant that you're good at the bedside manner thing." She takes the shirt that Meredith hands her and puts it on, and then Meredith helps her button it down. Izzie has trouble bending, still, so Meredith puts on her socks. She's tinier than Izzie, but her arms are surprisingly strong as she helps Izzie scootch back to the pillow. Izzie cries out; she's very stiff from lack of movement over the past six months. Meredith clucks under her tongue.

"Shh, I know that hurts," she says gently, massaging Izzie's back and hips as she settles her in bed. Izzie shifts painfully and sighs. "Come sit with me?" she pouts.

Meredith climbs into bed next to Izzie and lies down, facing her. "Izzie . . ."

"I know. I have to go back to Addison's next week. Or somewhere else. Probably back to Addison's, though. I just feel so weird going back there, after what she did."

"Iz, no judgement here, but she was desperate. I'm not trying to upset you, but you were really, really difficult. You didn't remember anyone. You threw tantrums, like, two-year-old-type tantrums. You cried a lot."

"I know . . . but she said she loved me. Shouldn't she have stood by me?" Izzie's voice is trembly, and Meredith slings her arm across Izzie to hold her closer. "She did stand by you, Iz. She stood by you up until the last day, and she's still standing by you."

"She slept with Callie!"

"She made a mistake. Just like you made one with George; just like I made one with . . . George," says Meredith awkwardly, and then clears her throat. "Anyway, we all make mistakes, Iz; the real love comes when we forgive that person and move on. She loves you . . . she loves you so deeply."

"I love her, too." Izzie's voice is low and starting to slur as her medication kicks in. "I should call her tomorrow."

"Yeah. That would be good." Izzie shifts and pulls her knees up to her chest, closing her eyes. "Don't go away, yet. Okay?"

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep." Meredith reaches out and strokes Izzie's hair. "I know it hurts, sweetie," she murmurs and Izzie sighs. "I know you do."

Addison isn't sure why she's at the Archfield, again; but she is. She's sitting in the car, and she knows Callie is upstairs, and she knows that she needs to go up to see her because if she doesn't, she'll eternally wish that she did.

But her legs don't move; her hand doesn't reach for the car door, and really? It's because Addison feels like she can't handle one more trauma. When you save mothers and babies all day, come home and look after your sick girlfriend, and then have to deal with a friend/lover who turns out to be a cutter, it gets to be too much. However, Addison is noble; Addison is a nurturer, so Addison makes herself get out of the car and go up the steps of the old hotel.

Five minutes later, she finds herself at Callie's door. She knocks once, twice, and hears footsteps coming towards the door on the inside, but they're not Callie's steps, and she isn't really surprised to find Mark there on the other side of the door. "Addie," he says, surprised.

"Hey. Is – is Callie around?" She tries to look past him into the room, but he blocks it. "I'm not really sure she wants to see you right now, Addie," he sighs, but Addison sees Callie come up behind him. "Move, Mark. Go find a coffee for awhile."

He sighs again and looks like he's about to argue, but Callie gives him a push out the door and he wanders down the hall, swearing under his breath. Without a smile, Callie swings the door wider. "Come on in, if you're coming."

The room is surprisingly clean, and Addison belatedly remembers Mark's obsessive-compulsive tendencies. He needs everything to be manicured; it's the downfall of being a plastic surgeon. She sits gingerly on the side of the bed; Callie sits across from her, and crosses her legs.

"So?" Callie's voice is neutral, and Addison can't stand it. "Why'd you do it, Cal?"

Callie looks down at the healing cuts on her arms; she doesn't tell Addison that she picks at them when Mark's asleep. "I couldn't take it."

"I can't take it either," Addison whispers. She takes Callie's warm hand for a moment, runs her finger over one of the scabs. "How could you hurt yourself like this? How could you hurt your beautiful self?" Her voice is heartbroken, and Callie's face becomes streaked.

"Remember when I told you that you had to make a choice? I couldn't wait. Have you ever been so desperate that you had to do something, something before you exploded, or hurt someone else? Instead of cutting up the hotel room, I cut up myself. At least I felt something other than your indifference and constant fucking indecision, Addison." Callie's voice is broken and Addison leans forward, going on her knees, her face in Callie's lap.

"If you wanted my attention . . . you had my attention, from the very moment we met, Callie Torres," Addison murmurs, and Callie's face crumples.

"Only, I don't, because you still love her." Callie's voice is bitter, but it changes suddenly, and Addison looks up to look Callie directly in the eyes. "You know what? That's okay . . . everyone deserves love. Even Izzie Stevens. And she was there first."

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

Callie casts a look at the door, then back at Addison. "He was there when you weren't," she says simply, and Addison understands. "He's not going to be there forever," she murmurs, and Callie shrugs. "I'll have to deal with that when the time comes."

"Callie . . ."

"It's not the same, anymore, Addison. It's never going to be the same. But I don't regret it," she says, her voice gentle, and Addison's tears stop at the edge of her eyes. "I love you and I always will."

"But you chose him."

"Because you wouldn't choose me. And he's not as bad as you made him out to be."

"I hope he's changed, Cal."

"I hope you find what you're looking for, too."

"I don't want to lose you," Addison suddenly gasps, and her sobs come out in harsh choking sounds that make her sound more animalistic than anything. Callie knows, however, that she's not crying for the lost relationship between them. She's crying because she's had it, and the stress has finally caught up, and this is going to be somewhat messy.

She's right as Addison suddenly stumbles to the toilet to vomit, the sobs tearing at her throat and making her gag. She rubs Addison's back, holds back the red hair, waits for Addison to finish, and then Mark comes back in.

"Shit," he says, coming to their side. "What the hell, Callie?"

"She's had it," says Callie simply, and Mark's familiar with Addison and her breakdowns, so when she's done throwing up and she's had a chance to wipe her face and rinse her mouth with Listerine, Mark carries her to the bed and lies her down. "Just lie for a minute, Addie," he says, and she closes her eyes.

When Addison wakes up, it's morning, and Callie and Mark are both gone. She rubs her eyes, rolls her tongue to unstick it from the top of her mouth, and finds a clean towel and a bunch of soaps and shampoos on the night table. She takes the hint and showers, letting the hot water beat against her head.

When she's finished, and decent, she doesn't hesitate. Her path is completely and utterly clear, for the first time in her life.

When Izzie wakes up, Meredith is there to help her change and get to the bathroom on time, for the first time since the surgery. Izzie actually can straighten her back, today, and takes experimental steps around the room. "Can I have a shower?"

Her bandages came off a few days ago, so Meredith doesn't see why not. She helps Izzie undress and then stands with her in the bathroom while she showers, in case she feels faint and needs to get out fast. Surprisingly, Izzie is fine throughout her shower, and when she comes out, she actually has colour. After Meredith helps her get dressed, however, she needs to lie down again.

The doorbell peals downstairs. "It's eight in the morning," Meredith grumbles, but they all know that people come and go constantly from this house. Meredith holds out and hopes George will get it, since she's a little busy tucking Izzie into clean sheets, but he doesn't, and she's forced to go downstairs anyway. Izzie's asleep, thankfully.

When she comes to the door, her heart sinks, because she knows exactly who it is.

"Addison."

"I know . . . I just need to see her."

Meredith stands with the door open, the morning streaming and doesn't know what to say.

"I'll go and see."


	10. Nothing to Fight

Addison climbs the stairs of Meredith's house, hearing the treads creaking under her feet; feeling the cold smoothness of the wall against her hand. She's only been to this house once or twice, when she and Izzie were having mad sex everywhere they could, but she still remembers the way to Izzie's room. It feels strange, being back here, when Izzie's things are spread all over her brownstone and there's always a fresh basket of pastries on the kitchen counter. It's even weirder because Addison's made her decision – it's just that she isn't sure she can articulate it.

Remember the feeling you get when you're about to say something big to someone? Maybe you count before you blurt it out – maybe you steel yourself up, clenching your fists, taking three breaths, whatever. However you do it, there's this rush of confidence right before you say it, and maybe it comes out more forceful than you would like. When Addison stands at Izzie's bedroom door, she steels herself up to walk in. When she pushes open the door, she pushes it too hard, and it bangs against the opposite wall. Izzie sits bolt upright in her bed, blinking in confusion, before Addison's image can register. When it does, her face becomes steely and she crosses her arms.

"What do you want, Addison?"

Addison steps in, closes the door gently behind her, almost without a sound. She takes a moment to let the knob twirl in her hands before turning back to Izzie. "I'm here to talk to you."

"Yeah, I guessed that. What I don't know is why. We're taking space, Addie." Izzie shifts uncomfortably in her bed and swears under her breath. "We're supposed to be apart."

Without being asked, Addison comes up to Izzie and gently pushes her forward, placing a pillow behind her back. Izzie leans back and sighs. "Thanks."

Addison sits on the end of the bed; she plays with her fingers for a moment, and when she looks up, Izzie's face is still steely. "I've ended it with Callie."

"Was there anything to end?"

"No, not really. But it's ended, anyway."

Izzie sighs again. "Well, somewhere inside, I know I should be pleased by that. But I can't really bring myself to jump for joy, Addie." The words hang in the air between them and Addison rises, going to the window.

"Izzie . . ."

"I guess what I want to know, Addison, is why. Why did you go to her when I was sick? Why did you sleep with her? Was it desperation, or did you actually love her?" Izzie fiddles with the satin edge of her blanket and looks up, her voice softer. "I know that I was away for six months; almost seven. I know that I wasn't myself and that I was really difficult to handle. I know that it was probably easier to love someone else than it ever was to love me," she says, her voice breaking, "but I don't understand how you could have turned away after I was myself again. I don't understand why you left me when I was so helpless. I don't understand how when you say you love someone, those words don't mean anything to the relationship, Addison!"

Izzie is openly crying, now. "I love you, okay. I've loved you since you made me sit with that dying baby two years ago. I've loved the way you're so understanding; you're so forgiving; you're so fucking strong. I love it all . . . but I will never understand that selfish streak of yours."

At that, Addison whirls around. "My selfish streak? Mine? Oh, Izzie . . . have you forgotten your little escapade with George? Have you forgotten that you put someone else in the same position that I've put you? You're not completely innocent in the ways of cheating."

"You're going to bring that up now? You're going to turn this back on me? So, it was a way for Callie to get her revenge? Are you admitting that?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake." Addison rakes a hand through her hair in exasperation. "You and Callie have so much history between you; you distrust each other so much and hate each other with the fiery passions of hell, that all you can do is think about ways to avenge yourselves. No, Izzie – no. I didn't do this to help Callie get revenge on you. I did it because I was lost, and I was alone, and you might have never gotten better. You might have stayed an imbecile until you died, okay, and I didn't want to be alone. I admit it – I'm a selfish bitch, because I can't stand being alone." Her voice is teary and Izzie's tears slow down; her face changes.

"You did it because you were lonely?" Izzie's voice is quiet, calmer.

"I did it because I needed to be taken care of. And that's one thing that you have never done for me."

Addison goes towards the door; she puts her hand on the knob, feels it turn against her palm. She's on the verge of walking out – on the very verge, when Izzie's small voice comes to her ear. "You've never let me."

And Addison turns back into the room. "What?"

"You take pride in being a lone wolf, Addie. You don't need anyone to look out for you because you throw everything into looking out for others. And I have been selfish; I have taken advantage of that, because sometimes I feel so lost in the world and the only person who makes that even remotely better is you."

"But you've never thought about the fact that even people who give everything to other people need someone to give something to them?"

"Are you saying that I've never given you support?"

"No!" Addison paces around the room, kicks off her shoes. "No. I'm saying that when I've really needed someone, you've never been able to help me. When Mark and I ended it, you were deep in your intern exam. When I lost my mother, you were away with Meredith on vacation. When I was working my heart out to get over Alex Karev, you were with George O'Malley, and it's just that you've never really been there."

"I didn't know you then! I wasn't with you then!"

"But it starts with friendship, Izzie. Callie was there. Through every single one of those times – Callie was there. Callie relates, Izzie. And maybe it's that you're too young for me; at a different stage in your life. Maybe it's that I just need a change. Maybe I've been fooling myself, thinking that this was enough. Because it's my fault, too. I wasn't totally there for you through your hard time . . . I broke away and I caved in."

Izzie's chest is hitching. "Don't. Don't say it. Don't say it to me."

"I don't think this is going to work." The words are said; they hang on the air, suspended in space and time. Izzie's eyes blur and her ears ring with the shock of it all.

"It has to work, Addison. You're all I have left."

"Oh, sweetheart." Now, Addison comes over to Izzie's bed; now, she wraps her arms around Izzie and draws her close, despite the fact that the angry words are still ringing in both their ears. Izzie lays her head on Addison's shoulder and lets her grief and frustration pour out.

"I'm sorry." She repeats it countless times, and Addison listens through the sobs and through the tears, until Izzie has calmed down enough to listen rationally. "I came to tell you that I'm going."

"Going where?"

"My friend Naomi has a co-op medical practice in L.A. We knew each other in medical school; there's an office space open and they need an OB."

Izzie's face falls and drains of colour. "No . . . no, Addison, no, please . . ."

"I'm going because it's the best decision for us. You'll never be able to trust me not to leave you again. I'll never be able to see Callie with Mark. I need a fresh start. I need to go somewhere the past won't follow me. Surely, Izzie . . . surely, you can understand that?"

Izzie is speechless and Addison suddenly feels like the hugest bitch, ever. She rarely breaks down in front of Izzie, but she feels the heavy tears behind her eyes and then they spill over, down her cheeks. "It's the best decision for us both."

"I can't believe you're going to leave." Izzie's voice is nearly soundless. "After everything; after how much we've been through? Addison . . ."

"It's time."

"No."

Addison looks up and into Izzie's eyes, which are boring into hers. "No. You're not going to go, just like that."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not going to leave me like that! I wasn't strong enough to stop you before, but fuck, Addison, I am strong enough now. You cannot treat our relationship like that. You cannot treat me like we've never known each other at all."

Addison sighs. "Izzie . . ."

"No! I'm not willing to let this go!" She gets out of bed and stands up, a pathetic sight in her wrinkled pajamas. "You have to stay, Addison. You can't leave me here."

"And it's back to all about you." Addison rises, too, and stands in front of Izzie. "If you cared, Izzie; if you really related, you would see that I need this. You would see that I can't take it anymore, and I haven't been able to take it for awhile."

"I know you can't take it. But I can't take you leaving. If you're just going to leave when I'm trying so hard to get better for you, to be what we were, then why did you let them do the surgery? Why did you let Derek make me better, just to walk out?"

Addison stares at Izzie, but she has no words.

"Yeah, you accuse me of being selfish, but I'll bet that you haven't even noticed how much I've improved. I bet you haven't noticed that I have stood here for over five minutes, talking to you. That I was able to use the bathroom this morning on my own. That I have taken a shower. Because you know what you're seeing? You're seeing the Izzie that was the mental age of two years old. And it's easy to leave that Izzie behind, when other nurses can look after her and she'll never remember anyway."

Izzie sways a little, but stands firm. "I am not that Izzie. I am the Izzie you fell in love with. I am the Izzie that you have made love to, countless times. We own a house together; I pay half the mortgage. We have scrapbooks of pictures from vacations we've taken. We sleep together in a king-size bed, and the last time you saw me, I was getting into the car to get medication for you."

Addison's face is run with tears and Izzie grabs her hand. "I am not helpless and I am not broken. I am strong, beautiful, and the person whom you said you'd always love. Did you forget that promise?"

"No," Addison whispered. "But I'm not sure that I can keep that promise anymore."

Izzie suddenly sways forward and Addison catches her. "Easy, easy now."

"You have to let us come back to what we were, Addison. You have to give this relationship a chance. Please, please, don't leave me now. Don't go and leave me now."

Addison holds the girl close to her; listens to her shallow, hitched breathing and the sobs in her voice. She rubs Izzie's back until the sobs slow down and the breathing becomes regular, and then she helps Izzie back into bed.

"I've got to go."

"Addison . . ." Izzie's voice is almost a squeak, but Addison turns to look at her, anyway. "Yes?"

"You're going to come back, aren't you?"

Addison sighs. "Yes, I'm going to come back. I promise."

"Okay." It's the trusting answer anyone would give someone they loved; but so much is in that simple trust. No matter how much she wants to walk out, Addison won't do it, if only for the fact that Izzie's trust hasn't been broken yet.

Later that evening, Addison's sitting at Joe's, sipping on a gin and tonic, when Derek Shepherd slides into the seat beside her. "Now, why aren't you home looking after that lovely girlfriend of yours?"

"Why aren't you out dating everything that moves?"

"Touché." Derek sips at his beer and gives her a second look. "Addison, what's wrong?"

"I've fucked everything up, as usual. Care to gloat?"

"Don't be prickly. How have you fucked everything up?"

"Well, let's see. For starters, I've slept with my best friend, and effectively ended that relationship. That naturally equated to cheating on my sick girlfriend, which she likely could have forgiven, and has forgiven, given the circumstances. But then, I had to leave Izzie the first day that she came home from the hospital to talk to Callie, who, as a result of me breaking things off with her, ended up self-mutilating and nearly bled to death. And if all that weren't enough, Derek," Addison announces, sweeping her hand clumsily across the bar, "I've had a job offer from Naomi in L.A. and I'm seriously considering taking it."

"Wow," says Derek, clicking his tongue matter-of-factly and sipping from his beer again. "I guess you really have fucked things up."

"Yeah." Addison's voice is foggy and Derek puts a hand on her shoulder. "Come here, Addie." She leans into his embrace, rubbing a hand across her eyes, and he rubs her shoulders. "Are you going to run away from this, or be the strong person that Izzie thinks you are?"

"What?"

"Every time you've messed stuff up, you've run away. You ran away to Mark when it was us; now you're going to run away from Seattle because you messed up with Izzie."

"We're at different stages of our lives, Derek."

"But you love each other, don't you?"

Addison pauses in her crying and thinks a minute, wiping her nose with a bar napkin. "I thought I did."

"Well, do you or don't you?"

Addison doesn't answer right away, and Derek kisses the top of her head, detaching her from his leather jacket. "You'd better think on that, my dear."

"Yeah."

"And then she just left, Mer; she just walked out." Izzie is sniffling and Meredith is holding her against her chest, rubbing her back and stroking her hair. "Oh, Izzie, sweetie."

"I know things have changed, but she doesn't even seem willing to fight for it, anymore. And I mean, am I not the wronged one here? Am I not the one she cheated on?"

"You are," Meredith nods. She looks up as Alex comes in, sleepy-eyed and annoyed. "Iz, can't you keep it down a little?"

"No!" Izzie raises her head from Meredith's chest and chucks a pillow weakly in his direction. "My relationship is over and you can just go. To. Hell!"

Alex sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. "So McHot went to L.A.?"

"No," Meredith and Izzie both answer, and then Meredith laughs a little. "She says that she's thinking of going to L.A. That she wants to go."

"She can't go. I love her," Izzie whispers, and Alex reaches out to stroke Izzie's foot. "That's really shitty."

Meredith sits for a moment, stroking Izzie's hair, and then muses, "Maybe you ought to let her go, Iz."

"What?" Izzie actually sits up, shocked. "Why would I let her get away from me?"

"Because maybe this is something she needs to do. Maybe she needs to find herself with people her own age, or something."

"I don't want to lose her!"

"Maybe you wouldn't lose her," says Alex. "Maybe she would realize what she's losing in you."

There's some merit to that, so Izzie chews on her fingernail and considers it. "You could be right, Evil Spawn."

"She's really confused right now," says Meredith. "She's not sure how to deal with everything now that you're better. But she does feel bad, Iz."

"I know she does . . ."

Meredith cuddles Izzie a little more, then lets her go and gets off the bed. "Anyway, we can't do anything about it tonight."

"Yeah."

They leave the room and Meredith switches off the light. Izzie listens to their footsteps down the hall and closes her eyes.

Addison's packing when she gets the phone call. "Can you come to Meredith's?"

"Izzie?"

"Yeah. I want to talk to you."

Addison gets in the car and drives across town, watching the streetlights flash over her windshield. When she gets to Meredith's, she finds Izzie sitting on the swing, shivering in the cool night. Her feet are bare and she's wearing the same pajamas that she was wearing this morning. Addison immediately comes over and wraps her coat around Izzie, without even thinking. "Jesus. Do you want to catch your death of cold?"

"That's an old wives' tale."

"Even so, you can really impede your recovery, Izzie!"

"It doesn't matter; I'm already cold and wet and tired. I may as well be a little more cold and wet and tired." Izzie's voice is defeated and Addison's heart wrings. "Why don't we get you inside and get you warm and dry?"

"No. Because you'll just resent me for it."

Addison sighs. "I deserved that." She rubs Izzie's shoulders and feels the girl relax a little under her touch. "You should know, Izzie . . . I started packing for L.A."

Izzie's head snaps towards Addison, so fast that Addison hears her neck crack. "You said you wouldn't leave!"

"Relax. I'm not leaving for good."

Izzie sniffles a little and brushes frustrated tears out of her eyes. "How long?"

"We need more space than we're getting here."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I don't know. Long enough to figure this out."

Izzie takes Addison's face into her hands, gently turning her head so that their eyes meet. "I don't know what I'm trying for without you."

In response, Addison leans forward, meeting Izzie's lips. They kiss gently, tenderly and Addison holds Izzie's cold body against her own. When they break apart, they both have tears in their eyes.

"I'm going to have to ask you to let me go, Izzie."

"If I let you go, will you come back?"

"I'll do my best."

And just like every other time Addison has needed Izzie to trust in her, Izzie closes her eyes, puts her feelings aside, and gives Addison her heart.

"Okay."

**Fin**


End file.
